


There's A Shadow, You Can't See My Eyes

by HollowIsTheWorld



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, build up to Benny/Samandriel, dealing with torture, established Gabriel/Kali, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowIsTheWorld/pseuds/HollowIsTheWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edengar used to be a veritable paradise, but things have been taking one turn for the worse after another. Prince Lucifer is exiled, the king is dead, and Michael Novak, the new king, is quickly beginning to cause his brothers to wonder if Michael should really have been allowed power after all. And that's without the worries about Prince Castiel's affair with the blacksmith, the Purgavain with uncertain intentions, and the abduction of Prince Samandriel, which sparks the country into war and presents the possibility of a spy in their midst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Between A Rock and A Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever really long fic. Updates will be on Tuesdays and Fridays, barring unforeseen circumstances. I think the rating is hovering somewhere on the line between Teen and Mature, so I rounded up to be safe. There will be both violence and sex, but nothing will be graphically described because I don't have the stomach to describe graphic violence and I have not learned how to write sex any way but vaguely.

“You don’t _really_ think that your father’s going to banish him, do you?”

Castiel dragged his hands down his face, feeling tired right down into the hollow centers of his bones. He was leaning on his elbows across Dean’s dining table, unsure if he was glad to be away from the drama of the castle or worried that something important was happening in his absence.

“It’s starting to look very likely,” he told the blacksmith. “You can hear their fights throughout most of the castle now.”

Dean made a sympathetic face and set a bowl down in front of Castiel. It smelled like fish and he poked disinterestedly at it with his spoon.

“Eat.” Dean ordered, sitting down next to him and nudging an elbow into his ribs. “You haven't been eating lately. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

“We haven’t had dinner as a family for a while,” he said by way of explanation. "I don't much care for eating alone." Nonetheless, he did begin eating his stew.

“I guess the family feud would put a bit of a damper on meal time, huh?” Dean’s tone was hovering somewhere between trying to lighten the mood and trying to be supportive.

“I keep hoping that it will all be over soon, that Lucifer will come to his senses. But he and our father simply refuse to listen to each other. And Michael-” He cut off, uncertain if he should tell Dean about his eldest brother’s meddling.

“And Michael…?” It would have been too much to hope that Dean wouldn’t notice the abrupt end to his sentence.

Castiel just nodded. “And Michael.” At least Dean would usually let a subject drop if Castiel made it clear he didn't want to continue with it. He sighed and leaned his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “This is the only place I’m not being pulled apart these days. Lucifer keeps coming to us for help.”

“What do you tell him?”

“I tried to convince him that such a large war would destroy us. He is very determined, however.”

“It runs in your family.”

“I would prefer if the determination did not involve bloodlust.” And perhaps a bit less screaming too. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his father raise his voice in anger before this; now he seemed to do little else so long as Lucifer was around.

Dean’s fingers began to card through Castiel’s hair and he hummed in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut, tension bleeding out of him. He could fall asleep like this, had before, in fact. Dean’s arms were always warm and secure, and it didn’t matter which of them was holding which, they fit together the way Castiel had once thought people could only fit together in the most fanciful of stories.

He felt Dean’s lips on the top of his head some time later. “Cas. It’s getting late.”

He sounded regretful and Castiel heaved a sigh to show he agreed, slowly pushing himself up and away from Dean. Instantly, he felt cold all throughout. He leaned over and kissed Dean once, mouth full of regret and longing and wishes for things to be different. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dean’s hand ran lightly down his side. “Don’t feel the need to come if things are bad. Your family comes first.”

“You feel as much like family as them,” Cas told him, not for the first time. Dean never seemed willing to accept it, but he wasn’t about to stop saying it. “I’ll come by, even if it’s only for a few minutes.” He kissed him again, lightly, and left.

All Castiel really wanted was to retreat to the privacy and security of Dean’s bedroom, far away from his family’s drama and the politics of the castle. They had been doing this for nearly a year now, and before Lucifer had begun to insist on war it had been easy for Cas to sneak off unnoticed, sometimes for the entire night. Now, every member of the royal family was being watched by someone or other and they were strongly urged not to go far while things were unstable.

Castiel knew he wasn’t the only one chafing at the restrictions either. With the exception of Michael, who followed the king everywhere anyway, and Lucifer, who was the reason for all the unrest in the first place, none of the Novak family was dealing well with being cooped up like this. Castiel was concerned that the attempt to make the royal family appear stable would simply make things worse in the end.

He passed Balthazar in the hallway and his brother invited him to join him to eat. Castiel declined, claiming not to be hungry, which was actually true for once, since he’d eaten with Dean. That didn’t stop Balthazar from looking hurt, and Castiel hurried on, pretending not to notice. His brother wasn’t enjoy the fighting anymore than he was, but while Balthazar preferred drinking his problems away and seeking company, Castiel would much prefer to be left alone with his thoughts. Their opposing methods were beginning to take a strain on their relationship. Castiel hoped it would be over soon, but also dreaded to think what that would mean. Lucifer wasn’t the type to just give up.

Hoping to retreat into his room and be left undisturbed for the rest of the night, Castiel opened his door, slipped in, and shut it firmly behind him.

“There you are, Castiel.”

Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin before it registered that the voice belonged to his younger brother. “Samandriel. How long have you been in here?”

One of Samandriel’s shoulders raised and dropped in a disinterested shrug and he got up from where he’d been sitting on Castiel’s windowsill. “Maybe thirty minutes. I’ve been avoiding Lucifer all day.”

“What does he want from _you_?” Samandriel, being the youngest, had the benefit of having the least exposure to politics of all of them, which made it seem unlikely that Lucifer would consider him to be a great ally in this.

“He wants me to convince father that, with the right tactics, we _could_ defeat Hellacia, Purgavai, and Humaear all in one war.”

“Could we?” Castiel didn’t want to, whether it was possible or not, but if Lucifer could be convinced he was being rash perhaps this whole thing could pass over quietly.

“No! We could maybe, _maybe,_ defeat two of them if we had the help of the third. At a stretch it may be possible to defeat two of them if the third is neutral, but there’d be so much damage to us that we probably wouldn’t have much of a kingdom left afterward. Edengar has fantastic defenses, that doesn’t mean we should go trekking off to war.”

Castiel supposed Samandriel would know better than anyone else in the family. He had been following the soldiers around since he was old enough to pester them with questions. Their father used to laugh about it, saying it took him seven tries but he finally had a child with a head for military tactics. Samandriel had been going on patrols and participating in training sessions with the men since he was thirteen, though he was never allowed far from the castle.

“Did you tell Lucifer that?”

Samandriel looked like he thought Castiel was an imbecile for asking. “Of course I did. He went off on me about how I’m on Michael and father’s side.” He paused and actually looked upset for a moment before schooling his face back to the stiff expression he used with his soldiers. “He’s been paranoid recently, have you noticed?”

“He’s been a lot of things recently, none of them good.”

Samandriel nodded with unhappy agreement. “Do you think father’s going to follow through on his threat to banish him?”

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he had so desperately wanted to lie. He wanted nothing more than to tell Samandriel what they both wanted to hear, to treat him like his little brother who had come looking for reassurance, rather than like Prince Samandriel, a soldier of the King’s Army. But Samandriel wouldn’t appreciate it, or even the thought of it, and Castiel knew it. “If he doesn’t stop this campaign of his? I’ve never known our father to not follow through on his threats.”

Samandriel nodded sadly. He had known the answer, of course, but Castiel knew it hurt him as much to hear it as it hurt Castiel to say it.

Samandriel left the room quietly, not saying anything else to Castiel. Castiel lay down, wishing he could fall asleep, but knowing he was too worried to even shut his eyes.

* * *

 

“Father, this cannot be allowed to continue.”

Prince Michael and King Charles were alone in the king’s chambers, the windows all securely latched and the double glass doors leading onto the balcony shut and locked. Michael had cautioned that Lucifer may attempt to eavesdrop on the king’s conversations in order to better prepare his next argument.

Charles was rubbing at his temples, and Michael thought it looked like his hair was beginning to thin out and turn gray. The constant arguing was wearing on the man’s health. “He’s my son as much as the rest of you, Michael. I can’t turn him away at the slightest irritation.”

“You wouldn’t be. You’ve warned him that you’d be forced to banish him if he didn’t give up on this fool plan of his, and he insists on continuing to press the point. If you don’t banish him you’ll be seen as weak. No one will take your threats seriously any longer, we will be in danger of invasion.”

And yet the king persisted in looking hesitant. “Perhaps he just needs a little more time to come to his senses.”

“Father, he’s had _months_. He hasn’t backed down, if anything he’s grown more insistent. He isn’t going to change his mind on this; he is determined to have a war.”

“But _why_? He wouldn’t be involved in much of the fighting; he’s a soldier but he’s also second in line for my throne. He knows he wouldn’t be allowed to go into the thick of the battles more often than not. Why would he want a war so much?”

Michael struggled to not roll his eyes in front of the king. Was he really so oblivious? “He hates them, surely you’ve noticed. Hellacians, Purgavains, even the Humaearans. He doesn’t like having treaties with them, being allies with them, anything. He’d rather see them all burned to the ground. He doesn’t even care who does the burning, as long as it gets done.”

His father’s face made him realize that the king had been perfectly aware of Lucifer’s unexplained hatred for their neighboring countries, but hadn’t liked hearing it stated so bluntly. Michael softened his voice. “Father, he is not going to stop. Everyone else is getting restless about being kept in the castle so much. The soldiers are getting nervous because Samandriel has suddenly stopped going out on patrols, and is even kept from training sessions a great deal of the time. _This cannot continue_.”

Charles nodded. “I know that, Michael. You think I don’t? But he is still my son. Don’t expect me to cast him aside like he’s an old cloak that’s had a hole worn through it. It’s more complicated than that. He’s your brother, do you really want him gone so badly?”

Michael swallowed. His opinions on what should be done about Lucifer were complicated at best. But if he’d learned one thing in training to take over his father’s throne it was that he had to do what was best for the kingdom first, his own emotions could not be allowed to interfere. Lucifer being gone would be best for the kingdom, Michael had no doubt about that, at least. And with his father being so reluctant he had to stand by his opinion.

“What I want doesn’t matter right now. Lucifer has backed himself into a corner, there _is_ no other choice. You can’t back down on your threat, your majesty.”

King Charles didn’t look at him, but nodded again. “I suppose you’re right about that much, Michael. Leave me alone for a while. I need to think.”

Michael left without further argument, but prepared himself to have to join the debate again the next day. It seemed unlikely that the king would give in so easily.

* * *

 

If one more person told Samandriel that his father would prefer for him to stay inside the castle he was going to take them up to the battlements and throw them off the side. He’d had enough of being punished for Lucifer’s attitude problem, he was going back to his soldiers, and if his father had an objection he was going to have to come down and deliver it in person.

“Prince Samandriel!” Zachariah, the Commander of the Royal Army and one of the only soldiers who outranked Samandriel on the battlefield, sounded unpleasantly surprised. “I’m sorry, your highness, I was told you wouldn’t be rejoining us for some time.”

Samandriel had no doubt Zachariah would have preferred that. He’d never liked the idea that someone not even half his age would very likely be taking over his job in the not-so-distant future. Besides that, it was no secret that the men liked Samandriel more.

“I’m afraid you were misinformed, Commander. I’m here for morning training.”

Zachariah gritted his teeth, but nodded. “Of course, your highness. The men are down on the field.”

Samandriel knew that already, that’s where he had been heading when Zachariah intercepted him, but he nodded politely, side-stepped around the commander, and continued on his way.

The clang of sword on shield and armor was vaguely reassuring to him, old and familiar, free from the unrest oozing from the castle’s very walls. Already dressed in light chainmail, sword sheathed at his hip, Samandriel smiled at the small handful of soldiers who had already noticed him, and stood at the edge of the training area, watching.

One of the men went down in a crash of armor. “Uriel!” Samandriel barked, causing the man still standing to visibly flinch and slowly turn around. “What was that?”

Samandriel knew what it was, and knew that Uriel knew that he knew, and the soldier didn’t have anything to say in his own defense. Samandriel crossed the field. “I don’t recall ever teaching you to cheat to defeat your opponent.”

A muscle in Uriel’s jaw jumped. “I was using what I had, sir.”

“And how do you think that would go outside of training?”

Uriel was silent and wouldn’t meet Samandriel’s eyes.

“As I thought.” Samandriel looked over to their audience and raised his voice. “I don’t know who’s been supervising you when I’m not here, but I’m not going to stand for that, understood?” There were nods and a few ‘Yes, sirs!’ “Alright then. Hester! Raphael! You’re next!” He returned to the sidelines.

“Honorable soldiers you have there,” a voice said over his shoulder as he watched.

Samandriel jumped and turned to see Lucifer. He scowled. “Thank you. What are you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed to come down to the training yard?”

“Lucifer, you haven’t been to the training yard in months, you’re too busy arguing with our father. What do you want?”

Lucifer ignored him, watching Hester and Raphael spar. “I’d have praised him for creative thinking.”

“Praised who? Uriel?”

“He knew he couldn’t win the traditional way, so he got more creative.”

“They aren’t supposed to fight like that.”

“Right. Dishonorable.” Lucifer met his eyes, and a chill went up Samandriel’s spine despite the warm day. “That’s your problem, little brother. You’ve been taught that everyone is as honorable as you are. And you _believe_ it.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You’re going to get hurt, Samandriel. War _is_ coming, no matter what the rest of you think, and you’re going to learn the hard way that the rest of the world isn’t as honorable as your soldiers and training sessions and jousting matches.”

Lucifer walked away before Samandriel could respond.

He stood there, feeling cold and with his insides twisting up into knots, until someone called his name, asking who was sparring next. He shook his head, rubbed his hands together, unsheathed his sword, and tried to wipe away the memory of the brief conversation with sweat and the adrenaline of training.

* * *

 

Castiel sat in the castle’s library, reading the same page of a dusty book over and over again without registering the words. Things had been quiet in the castle today, as far as he knew, and despite that being what he had been hoping for, he found himself terrified of what it meant. He had seen no sign of Michael, Lucifer, or his father all day, and positive explanations were eluding him.

He’d gone to visit Dean, hoping the blacksmith would help him take his mind off things, but Dean had smiled apologetically and said he was swamped with work today. Castiel had nodded understandingly and left him to it. And now he was sitting in the library, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Dean’s younger brother was working at a desk not far away, translating some missive that had to be sent somewhere that didn’t speak the same language as Edengar and its surrounding countries.

_‘Why couldn’t Lucifer want to have a war with_ them _?’_ Castiel thought bitterly. ‘ _Why does he have to put all of us in a position of choosing between him and peace?_ ’ Because no matter how much Castiel loved his brother, no matter how much King Charles loved his son, Castiel knew they would have to choose peace. They couldn’t plunge Edengar into war because Lucifer was having a tantrum and they didn’t want to offend him.

He shook his head. That line of thought wasn’t helping his mood any.

“That looks like a riveting read,” a dry voice said above his head.

“Hello, Balthazar,” Castiel said, looking up. “I’m surprised to see you here. I didn’t think you knew we had a library.”

Balthazar shrugged, looking at his surroundings with the air of a man who had never seen them before. “There isn’t much to do around here, you know. Telling me not to go to taverns and the like has cut down significantly on the number of things I can do to entertain myself.”

Castiel sighed. “I know what you mean. I don’t even leave the castle very often and I think this is too much.”

Balthazar dragged a chair over so he could sit across from Castiel, then looked around. He lowered his voice so Castiel had to lean forward to hear him properly. “It may all be over by the end of the day.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“I told you, I’ve been bored. I was eavesdropping on Naomi and Michael.”

“What’d they say?”

“Mostly just a bunch of political stuff that nearly put me to sleep. But then he asked her if she’d talked to father about Lucifer and she said yes, that she thought she was finally getting through to him. And then Michael said that he was too, and that they should go talk to him together, so he doesn’t get cold feet about it.”

Castiel’s mouth had dropped open. “Michael _wants_ Lucifer banished?”

“Probably considers it his duty. You know how he is. And, honestly, as much as I don’t like it I think he’s right. You do too, it’s why you’re so miserable.”

“But he-”

“Castiel. This can’t go on. You know that as well as I do. And it’s not going to, not much longer.” He stood up. “Come on,” he ordered, voice back at its usual volume. “Time for dinner. When was the last time you ate?”

“I eat,” Castiel retorted, standing up himself. “Just not with all of you breathing down my neck. I don’t like listening to arguments over dinner.”

“Well, we may be argument-less this evening. I think Michael, Lucifer, and father are off having a private talk.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better.”

Balthazar slung an arm over Castiel’s shoulders as they walked. “I know, little brother.”

They walked to the dining room together, Balthazar being quieter than Castiel had been aware he was capable of being.

Just as Balthazar had predicted the rest of the royal family was already there, except for Michael, Lucifer, and King Charles. Samandriel looked worn out and grimy.

“Did you go out and train today?” Castiel asked him as he sat down and one of the servants made him and Balthazar plates full of roasted boar, some bread, cheese, and a bowl of soup.

Samandriel nodded. “I’ve had enough of the castle. I don’t care if things are restless, I’m not going to make them worse by training with my soldiers.”

“They get slow in your absence, baby brother?” Gabriel asked, attempting to sneak Anael’s bread off her plate even though he hadn’t finished his own yet. She smacked him on the wrist hard enough to make him yelp and jump away.

Samandriel rolled his eyes at them. “They got sloppy. Zachariah doesn’t pay nearly close enough attention while they’re sparring. I was kicking their asses all over the field. I was embarrassed for them.”

“You’ll get them back in shape, I’m sure,” Anael told him, eying Gabriel warily. Castiel could see Balthazar wondering if he could snatch something from the other direction while she was distracted.

Samandriel nodded. “Of course.”

Dinner went on in the most normal way it had since Lucifer first suggested a war. Balthazar did decide to brave stealing Anael’s food - Castiel would never understand why he and Gabriel tried, she always won out and it wasn’t like they couldn’t ask for more - and got a bowl of steaming hot stew to his lap for his troubles.

They were being served dessert and conversation was winding down when the dining room doors opened and the king entered the room.

He looked at them, sadness etched into the lines of his face, looking at least a decade older than he was. That was new, Castiel thought. He’d always aged fairly well, before.

“I need you all in the throne room at once,” he said. “I have an announcement to make.”

Castiel’s stomach turned and he wished he hadn’t eaten dinner after all. He looked around to his siblings, who all looked somewhat defeated. They knew what was coming as well as he did. They couldn’t avoid it any longer.

* * *

 

There was absolutely nothing Samandriel enjoyed about official events. Things for the army weren’t so bad, he was in his armor for that, with all the other soldiers around him, and they generally didn’t last nearly as long.

Family events were terrible. He didn’t like his formal outfit, or the cape that went along with it. He didn’t like being watched, with only his siblings to divert the attention off of him. And he especially didn’t like his crown, which was heavy and pushed his hair down into his eyes and made his neck ache.

Of course, Samandriel would have been miserable right now no matter how he felt about formal attire.

The important people who had been nearby were all there - Commander Zachariah, Royal Advisor Naomi, the Purgavain ambassador, Kali, along with a few others. And Lucifer was standing in the middle of the room, in front of their father’s throne, stripped of his crown, his cloak, his robes. It was strange to see him without the family crest printed on his chest.

Lucifer was holding his head high though. He looked every inch a prince, or even a king, standing there with his back and shoulders straight, his head up, no fear in his eyes. He was the only Novak in the room that didn’t look distraught, aside from, perhaps, Michael. Samandriel couldn’t tell if his oldest brother was truly not disturbed or simply better than the rest of them at hiding his emotions.

“This is your last chance, Prince Lucifer,” King Charles was saying, and Samandriel wondered if it was his imagination making his father’s voice shake. “Do you or do you not take back your insistence that we begin a war with our neighboring countries?”

Lucifer didn’t so much as bat an eye. “I do not, your Majesty.”

Samandriel had known he would say it, known that Lucifer would have backed down long before this if that had ever been an option in his mind, but he swallowed hard and looked down anyway. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Castiel do the same.

He forced his features to be as expressionless as he could manage again and looked back up, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves.

King Charles shook his head slightly and Samandriel could imagine his thoughts because they echoed his own: _Lucifer, why couldn’t you just let it go?_

The king finished the ceremony and Samandriel tried to block out the words, not wanting to be replaying the scene again tonight when he tried to sleep.

And then it was over, Lucifer no longer welcome within Edengar’s borders. If he was seen in the country outside of two weeks from now he would be charged as a traitor to the crown and executed.

Lucifer said nothing to the king, but turned his head to look at his brothers. “And not one of you will so much as come to my defense?”

_We came to your defense,_ Samandriel wanted to say, _but it’s too late now. Now it’s all over._ But Lucifer wasn’t truly looking for a reply and Samandriel’s throat was too tight for him to give one anyway.

“Not even you, Michael?” There was silence. Michael didn’t turn his head or blink an eye. “Well. I suppose I won’t be greatly missed then.”

Lucifer turned on his heel, head still high, and strode out of the room.

By morning, all traces of him were gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart from nikaalexandra [http://25.media.tumblr.com/214809356e911e91685265cceef54619/tumblr_mvh7k7xz0g1rbetmro2_r3_500.png](http://nikaalexandra.tumblr.com/post/65531470873/so-im-really-digging-this-whole-royal-au-thing)


	2. Long Live the King

When there was bad news to be told even the walls seemed to be clamoring to tell it, so Dean had heard about Lucifer and was staying up, waiting. Just as he’d expected, about half an hour after Dean would usually have retired for the evening, Castiel came stumbling through his door, his crown put back where it stayed between formal events but his royal clothes still on and his cloak still hung over his shoulders. They looked out of place with Castiel’s slumped shoulders and haggard expression.

He looked at Dean for a minute, both of them unmoving. “You’ve heard then.”

Dean nodded.

“I wasn’t a surprise, but-” Castiel cut off abruptly, taking a deep breath.

Dean nodded again, moving to stand closer. Castiel wasn’t crying, not yet anyway, but his breaths were shaky. “I know, Cas. I know. Just take it easy.”

The squeak that came from Castiel’s throat made Dean’s heart ache. He took his hand and gently led him to the bed, softly pushing him down to sit on the edge. “Come on, Cas. It’s alright. Just breathe. I got you.”

He sat down beside Castiel and began to rub reassuring circles into his back. “How’s your family taking it?”

Cas turned his head to bury his face against Dean’s shirt. “Michael’s glad Father finally got it over with. Gabriel disappeared to God-knows-where as soon as it was over, Balthazar went to get drunk, and Anael and Samandriel just went back to their rooms. And our father… I don’t think he’s sure that he did the right thing.”

“It can’t have been easy for him,” Dean said, hoping he wasn’t going to say something that would drive Castiel away. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if Sam did something that made him have to be banished. At least Dean would be allowed to follow if anything ever happened, instead of being duty-bound to stay behind.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he did reach up and unfasten his cloak, tossing it across the room and out of the way. Whoever was in charge of cleaning it probably wouldn't approve, but there were perks to being royalty.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked quietly, vacantly looking at the ground.

Dean pulled him in closer, kissing his forehead. “Of course. Anything you need.”

Castiel nodded and slowly released the breath he’d been holding. “I feel like I shouldn’t be so upset.”

“Of course you should. You just lost a brother.”

“He’s not _dead._ ”

“He’s still gone.”

Castiel shook his head, pulling away a little. “But I knew it was coming. Everybody did. I was even hopeful that it _would_ happen, just so it would be done with.”

“You also had hope that it wouldn’t have to happen. You lost a brother, Cas. You’re allowed to be upset about that. Your siblings are upset, right?”

Cas hesitated, then nodded.

“Do you think they shouldn’t be?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly. You’re allowed to grieve. You _should_ grieve. You all should.”

Castiel buried his head in his hands. “You’re a hypocrite.”

“What?”

“Don’t think I don't know how much you refused to let yourself grieve over your parents’ deaths.” His tone was sharp and defensive.

Dean flinched. Castiel hardly ever brought them up, and certainly never so brutally.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” Castiel said, pulling up the blankets and laying down.

“You’re not wrong,” Dean admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

Castiel tried to smile, but it wouldn’t reach his eyes. He rolled to his side and a few minutes later his breathing evened out.

Dean stayed up another hour, absentmindedly stroking Castiel’s dark hair, before lying down beside him.

* * *

 

Michael’s chin was resting on his fist and he was grinding his teeth together, lost in thought, when Zachariah came in.

“Is everything all right, your highness?”

Michael sat up, drumming his fingers on the table now. “Is everything all right? Of course it’s not, I’m heir to the throne. _Something_ is always wrong.”

Zachariah looked wary. “Is this about Prince Lucifer, your highness?”

“He isn’t a prince any longer, Commander,” Michael snapped. “Remember that.”

The older man nodded. “Yes, sir, I will. But if it’s not about Pr- _Lucifer_ , then what is it?”

Michael considered Zachariah, wondering how likely it was that he would repeat their conversation to the king. Being the heir made the line between being spied on and having every breath obeyed very thin. “Does my father look well to you, Zachariah?” Michael ventured at last, careful to keep his tone level.

“The king, your highness? He seems well enough to me.”

Zachariah was many things, Michael thought, but he didn’t have much skill as a liar. Thankfully, he rarely had to in his line of work.

“Are you certain of that, Commander? He’s seemed… haggard, recently. Not as active as he used to be.”

“Well, your highness, the king isn’t quite the young man that he used to be, of course. I don’t think he appears _ill_ , however.”

‘ _No,'_ Michael thought to himself. _‘Not sick, I’ll agree with you there. Old, yes. Old and tired. Lucifer’s banishment may prove to be more than his heart can handle._ ’ Michael hated to think of his father’s potential death in the possibly very nearfuture, but it was something he had to consider. Lucifer had been driving their father’s health down for a long time now, it was bound to be too much eventually.

“Thank you, Zachariah. How about Samandriel? Have you seen him recently? How does he seem to be taking Lucifer’s banishment?” The more he knew about his siblings’ states of mind the better. If they started building up resentment he ran a risk of them repeating Lucifer’s performance.

Zachariah shrugged, gesturing with his palms out. “I haven’t noticed any change in his behavior at all, your highness. Prince Samandriel has gone back to his training and the patrols of the immediate area as if he never left.”

Michael didn’t miss the bitterness in Zachariah's voice, but he chose not to comment on it. He could deal with Zachariah’s jealousy over someone so young having so much potential at another time, if it came to that. “That’s a relief, at least. I’m afraid Gabriel has taken it rather hard, and Balthazar and Castiel have both been affected as well.” He'd been trying to determine Anael's opinions on the matter, but she was harder to read than his brothers were.

“And you, your highness?”

Michael fixed Zachariah with a dark glare, daring him to press that issue. “I do what has to be done for the good of this kingdom, Commander. I don’t stew over my decisions.”

He could see Zachariah swallow nervously and nod his head. “Of course, your highness. Was there anything else?”

“Not at the moment, Zachariah. You can go back to your duties.” Michael stood up. “I’m going to go see my father.”

Zachariah nodded, bowed out, and left. Michael departed in the opposite direction, heading for his father’s office.

King Charles was sitting behind his desk when Michael arrived, surrounded by papers but not appearing to be doing anything with them. The room smelled like wine.

“Oh, Michael,” the king said after a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you. I wanted to be sure you weren’t having second thoughts about making the decision to banish Lucifer.”

Charles sighed. “Michael, he’s your _brother._ Do you have to be so callous about everything?”

“Father, it had to be done, you know that as well as I do.”

“That doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to be upset about having to do it.”

Michael didn’t respond. They’d had similar arguments many times before Lucifer’s banishment, he doubted they would resolve it any better now. At this point it would just be beating a dead horse.

“Oh, Michael. Sometimes I wish I’d only had one child. It would have been much less stressful for me. Worrying about seven children on top of the entire kingdom is a bit much for one man to handle.” He smiled wanly.

“None of us are children anymore. Even Samandriel is an adult now. I think he’s ready to start leading patrols farther than just the surrounding forests.”

The king looked at him incredulously. “You want me to banish one of my sons, I do that, and now you want me to send another son to the borders of the countries that are still uncertain of us because of what the other son said?”

“I didn’t say he was ready to be sent all the way to the border.” Michael thought he probably was, but it would be best to approach that particular argument one step at a time.

Charles waved one hand dismissively. “Samandriel is the most stubborn of all of you, Michael. If I give him an inch he’ll insist he’s ready for a mile.”

“He has to start somewhere.”

The king shook his head. “Not yet, he doesn’t. It’s barely been three days, Michael. Give it some time. Not everything has to be strict and efficient all the time. The kingdom doesn’t start falling apart because the king thinks about things and has a drink.”

“How about when he has a few dozen drinks?”

Charles didn’t answer, just shook his head. “Michael, you aren’t very much like me, you know that? I hope that turns out to be a good thing.” He turned away and started to read through one of the papers on his desk.

Feeling uncomfortable, Michael left without saying anything else. Sometimes he felt that his father was getting old and was no longer fit to be the king of Edengar. Other times the man made Michael feel like a little child again, caught pulling the dogs’ tails.

* * *

 

Castiel was amazed by how quickly the entire castle seemed to forget that Lucifer had ever existed. His room had been cleaned and turned into just another guest room, his crown sat in a case in the royal treasury, his spot at the dining table was filled by Gabriel, whose spot was filled by Balthazar, and so on. Talking to Dean that morning, Castiel had morbidly wondered if it would be so easy to forget his father’s existence once the king died.

Dean had suggested that it might be good for Cas to get out of the castle for a while, maybe go for a ride or something.

Which was why Castiel was standing at the stables, waiting for his horse to be ready to go.

“Castiel?” Samandriel had appeared, evidently freshly back from a training session, as he was covered in grass stains and dirt, and there were more than a few bruises forming. “What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d go for a ride,” Castiel replied, gesturing towards the black horse with a white mane and tail now being led towards him. “Would you like to join me?”

Samandriel tilted his head, considering, then nodded. “Sure. Just give me a minute to clean up a little and change. Tell them to get Feorh ready for me, would you?” He jogged up the steps to the castle doors and disappeared.

Castiel gave the stable-hands the order and swung himself into Cempa’s saddle, wrapping the reins around his hand to hold her in place while he waited.

True to his word, Samandriel didn’t take long, his nearly golden horse was only waiting for a minute or two before the youngest Novak returned and the two were ready to leave.

“Do you have any particular destination in mind?” Samandriel asked as they rode down the pathways leading to the forest.

“Not specifically. Thought we’d just ride through the woods for a bit. Any preferences?”

Samandriel shook his head. “No. It's been a while since I’ve been on a horse for anything other than patrol, you know that? It’s kind of nice.”

Castiel smiled at his little brother. “It’s been a while since you’ve done anything that doesn’t have to do with the army somehow. You work too hard.”

“I like the army. I’m good at it. And I’m not very good at politics, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I had, actually,” Castiel said mildly, remembering all too well the many times Samandriel had very nearly ruined their relationship with some Edengar noble with an overly inflated sense of their own importance. He had a tendency to say what was on in his mind, which just didn't end well with nobility. He’d finally been ordered to do his best to stay out of the way during events and let his family make excuses for him. Family that wasn’t Gabriel, now that the McNivens believed that Samandriel was secretly extremely mentally ill.

The brothers rode for a little over an hour, rarely speaking. When they did talk it was limited to casual things, like pointing out the birds across the river or mentioning that that part of the river might be a nice place to go fishing. A large and even part of the trail had them racing through the trees, Samandriel winning by a landslide since he had so much more experience with having to control his horse at high speeds over difficult terrain.

“You should train with us some,” Samandriel said when they stopped to give the horses a rest in a clearing beside the water. “Learn how to make Cempa take jumps and corners a little smoother.”

“Or you could have your men embarrass me.”

“Embarrassment is good for the soul. Builds good character.”

Castiel chuckled. “Who told you that?”

Samandriel’s good mood dropped off his face and he looked away. “Lucifer,” he mumbled.

The air of the forest grew heavy and thick. Lucifer. It didn’t matter that all traces of him seemed to have vanished from Edengar, he couldn’t be erased from memory so easily. And the memories were painful now. Castiel remembered Dean telling him that they’d get a little less so over time, get to the point where they were bittersweet instead of just bitter. He hoped the other man was right. He did have experience, Castiel supposed, after losing both of his parents.

Perhaps he could ask Gabriel if he agreed, Cas thought, continuing to not acknowledge the uncomfortable atmosphere. He might be willing to talk about their mother’s death. Castiel was too young when she died to remember anything about her, or even how his family had dealt with it.

“Castiel?”

“Hmm?”

“Does Father look ill to you since Lucifer left?”

Castiel felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. He’d been hoping he was the only to notice so he could tell himself that it was all in his head. “He’s…” Castiel sighed, reminding himself that he wouldn’t do anyone any favors by lying in an attempt to protect Samandriel - or himself. “He’s looked tired.”

Samandriel nodded. “And it’s only been a few days. What if it just keeps getting worse?”

“It’s only been a few days. He could be fine again in just a few more. Maybe he just needs some time to process what happened.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

The worse thing was that Castiel could tell from Samandriel’s tone that he’d believe him if he lied. He’d want to. But Castiel couldn’t do it. Samandriel deserved better than that. “I don’t know if I believe it. It’s what I’m going to keep telling myself until I have a reason not to though.”

Samandriel nodded, then shook himself. “Come on. We’ve sat here being depressing for long enough.”

Castiel couldn’t agree more.

They were almost halfway back to the castle when Gabriel came up out of nowhere on Sleipnir, his large gray horse, with his hunting dog, Fenrir, running alongside. He was moving so quickly that he nearly drove Samandriel and Castiel right off the path.

“Gabriel!” Castiel scolded once he’d gotten Cempa to calm down again. “What the hell was that?”

“Are you _trying_ to kill us?” Samandriel asked, voice less panicked and more irritated. Castiel put it down as a result of sparring with Gabriel regularly. The man was a menace with a sword, and not in the way that meant he was a good soldier. More in the way that he was going to take his own arm off someday, and probably somebody else’s head with it.

Gabriel just grinned, eyes crinkling up and looking all together immensely proud of himself. “I heard the two of you were out here. Couldn’t resist.”

“Your plan was to ride around the forest like a madman until you ran into us?” Castiel asked incredulously. Sometimes he wondered if Gabriel was truly related to him.

Gabriel managed to look even more pleased with himself. “Simply put, yeah. Fenrir and Sleipnir needed the exercise.”

“Of course,” Samandriel said, rolling his eyes and pushing his horse into a walk again, going around their older brother. “It was for the animals’ sakes.”

Gabriel nodded. “Of course. I’m a very giving person, you know.”

Castiel chuckled at that and began following Samandriel. “Naturally. We’ll see you at dinner, Gabriel.”

“See you then!” Gabriel gave a quick kick to Sleipnir’s side and both the horse and the dog took off at top speed again. All three were quickly out of sight.

“Where do you think he’s going in such a hurry?” Samandriel asked, watching him go.

Castiel shrugged. “It’s Gabriel. He frequently hurries to get nowhere. Come on, let’s get home. I’m tired of smelling like a horse.”

* * *

 

Seven weeks passed after Lucifer's banishment, and it slowly became impossible to deny that the king’s health was quickly deteriorating. Michael was lying awake at an ungodly hour of the morning, trying to decide what he should do about it.

Telling his brothers and sister presented the greatest challenge. They all seemed to have accepted Lucifer being gone without much difficulty, but there were still traces of grief in each of them, however well hidden. Michael knew what to look for. Reading his siblings was one of his greatest skills.

They would need to know sooner or later, of course. Their reaction if they discovered Michael had been hiding something so important from them could be even more dangerous than their reaction to the news initially. And they weren’t stupid, at least some of them had to have noticed that all was not well. It was getting harder and harder to deny it, especially with as often as Michael was taking his father’s place in day-to-day duties. The king almost certainly wasn’t going to live through the rest of the year.

Michael was starting to wonder if he’d make it through the month. He gave up on sleeping, pushing the blankets away and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He wrapped himself in a light robe, stepped into his slippers, and ventured out into the quiet of the castle.

There were guards around, but they were silent and didn’t even acknowledge his presence. It was above their stations to question why the crown prince would be wandering around the castle in the middle of the night. Michael enjoyed the quiet the castle had to offer at this time. The soft slaps of his shoes on the stone floor echoed lightly off of the walls and there was something oddly comforting about the noise.

The sound was also disorienting and it took Michael longer than it should have to realize that not all of the footsteps he was hearing were his.

He whipped around, tensing and preparing to shout for a guard, then froze. Castiel stopped dead in front of him and a few feet away, blue eyes huge. “Michael! What are you doing here?”

Michael couldn’t think of a single time in Castiel’s twenty-five years that he had sounded so nervous and guilty, and it caused his eyes to narrow with suspicion. “I think I should be asking you that question, Castiel.”

He saw Castiel’s Adam’s apple bob as he gulped. He stepped closer, nerves tight. He didn’t like the idea of Castiel, of all people, sneaking around and keeping secrets. He had enough unpredictability in Balthazar and Gabriel. “Castiel? Are you going to answer?”

Castiel’s eyes shifted away, glancing around as though searching for an escape route or a topic change. “Sorry, Michael. I just… Well, I couldn’t sleep so I went to get some fresh air. But I’m tired now, so I’m going to go to bed.” He swerved around Michael, walking as quickly as he could without running.

Michael didn’t believe a word he’d just said, but let him go. He did make a mental note to keep an eye on Castiel, however, so he could discover if whatever Castiel was hiding was potentially dangerous. Castiel was strange enough that he could easily be trying to conceal the fact that he was planting petunias by moonlight as that he was selling state secrets at the wall.

Whatever his brother was doing, Michael wasn’t any more relaxed after their encounter. If anything, he was more awake than before. He continued walking through the empty corridors, listening to the echoes of shoes on stone, and wondering what was going to happen in the next few weeks. Even if the king continued to hold onto life, unless he began recovering Michael was going to have no choice but to become king in all but name. He was prepared for that, had been ready for years, but the thought of his father being too weak to do the job he’d been doing since before Michael was even an idea made his stomach twist a little.

“Michael? Is that you?”

The prince jumped at the sudden voice, turning to see his father coming down the hall, looking worn-out, but not unhappy. “Father. What are you doing up?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Michael,” Charles said, tone and smile taking away from the sternness of the words themselves. “I’m an old man, I can walk around my castle at night if I want to. What are _you_ doing up?”

“I can’t walk around this castle at night too?”

Charles gave him a knowing look. “You couldn’t sleep? You need to learn to sleep with a lot on your mind, you know. You’ll be king soon and there’s always going to be something that can keep you up at night.”

 _‘You’ll be king soon…’_  So he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer too. Michael had thought that was what he wanted, as it would make certain conversations - mainly, arguing about whether or not Michael should go to an event in his father’s stead - much simpler, but he found he’d much rather have those arguments and carry on with a childish belief in his father’s invincibility.

“And you’ve learned how to do that?”

Charles shrugged. “I’ve managed it before. But generally… no. No, I haven’t.” He chuckled to himself. “Being a king is a heavy burden, Michael. A very selfish part of me will be glad to give it to you.”

Michael swallowed thickly. “You make it sound as though that will happen tomorrow.”

If he was hoping for a joking reply he was sorely disappointed.

The king looked off into the distance at something only he could see and one corner of his mouth tugged up sadly. “Tomorrow? Maybe. Maybe not. Soon though. It will be soon.” He let out a heavy breath and it seemed as though he was releasing hundreds of years of trials and tribulations along with it. “Do take care of your brothers and sister, Michael. You all need each other.”

His eyes suddenly looked very sad and it struck Michael with a new sort of clarity just how very _old_ his father was. “I don’t think sending Lucifer away was the right thing after all. There must have been some other way I just didn’t see. I shouldn’t have given up on a member of my family so easily.”

“It had to be done, father. We both know that.” Michael’s voice wasn’t as argumentative as it usually was when Lucifer came up in conversation.

King Charles shook his head. “You’ll understand when you have your own children, Michael.” He studied his eldest son for a moment, making Michael feel uncomfortable, though he did his best to hide it. “I should have helped you find a wife. But I don’t like thinking of you as being old enough for that.”

“I’m thirty-four, father,” Michael reminded him.

“I know that! I’m not _that_ old, Michael. But you are still my son and that’s a hard thought to let go of. I am sorry, though. There are some things I should have done differently.” He began to walk away and Michael knew instinctively that he was expected to let him go.

“I love you, Michael,” the king said, quietly, and Michael was unsure if he was supposed to be able to hear it. “You and your siblings. I just hope I did right by you all.”

The castle fell silent once more, and Michael felt that it had become chilled. No matter how hard he tried that night he couldn’t warm himself up once more.

* * *

 

Castiel was worried after being caught by Michael while returning from visiting Dean, afraid that Michael would be unwilling to let it go and discover something Castiel would prefer to remain hidden. Michael didn’t say anything, however, and Castiel, after three days of being nervous and exceptionally cautious, began to allow himself to believe that the man had forgotten their encounter, or at least believed his lie.

It was two nights after that third day that Castiel was woken from his sleep early by the clang of mourning bells ringing through the courtyard. He sat up immediately, startled awake, the sinking feeling in his stomach acknowledging what had happened before his mind dared to consider it. Something childish in him wanted to lay down again, bury his face in the pillow, pull the blankets over his head, and pretend he was just dreaming. Reality hadn’t been a pleasant thing to face for a while now, and Castiel was really starting to wish he didn’t have to keep doing it.

“Castiel?” Samandriel’s voice came through the door a few minutes after the bells began, muffled almost past recognition by the wood. “Are you still in there?”

Castiel sighed. “I’m here,” he called back. “Just a moment.”

He got up, pulling on his clothes and a pair of boots before reluctantly opening the door. Balthazar had joined Samandriel, or perhaps he’d been there the entire time, and both of them had the same look on their faces as Castiel did; resignation to what all three of them were certain those bells indicated.

“Are you ready for this?” Balthazar asked, tone attempting for light-hearted and falling just short.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Castiel said grimly. Samandriel nodded, face set into the harsh lines he always slipped into with the soldiers or when he didn’t want people to know what was going through his head.

Michael and Gabriel were already in the king’s room when they arrived. The two of them looked up when they entered. Gabriel’s eyes looked red, although they were dry. Michael’s expression was emotionless. He could have just as easily been at the bedside of a stranger.

“It looks like he died in his sleep,” Gabriel said, voice choked, as Ana entered, looking more disheveled than Castiel could remember ever having seen her before. “One of the servants came in to start a fire for him and realized he wasn’t breathing.”

Castiel wished he could sit down but it didn’t seem right to use one of his father’s chairs right now. King Charles was still on his bed, eyes shut and face relaxed, as if he was going to wake up any minute with a fond smile and tell them they needed to get more rest. It made Castiel’s stomach churn to think that the main reason he knew the man wasn’t going to wake up was that he hadn’t looked so healthy in a very long time. Maybe since even before the fights with Lucifer began. Being king wasn’t easy, and Charles had been old.

Mr. Letum, the village undertaker, arrived shortly after and all of them save for Michael retreated from the scene. Castiel knew that he, for one, had seen enough of his father’s corpse to last him a life time. He had no intention of seeing him again until the funeral ceremony, and even then the king would be shut away inside a coffin.

For now, all Castiel really wanted to do was go find Dean, curl up next to him, and go back to bed, vehemently denying that anything bad had occurred. He wondered if Dean knew what had happened yet, if the mourning bells had woken him and if he’d realized what they were announcing.

“Castiel?”

He turned at the sound of his name to see Balthazar looking at him with a sad sort of hopefulness in his eyes.

“Samandriel, Anael, Gabriel, and I thought we’d go get something to drink together. Join us?”

Castiel couldn’t help but look longingly in the direction he’d go to find Dean, but being with his family sounded nice right now too. Maybe he could help them, somehow. Things were going to be different now, Castiel knew. And he was rather doubtful that it was going to be for the best.

The five of them found some wine in the cellar, each filling a glass and sitting around in a circle so they could see each other easily.

Gabriel spoke first, raising his glass in an unenthusiastic toast. “The king is dead,” he said, tone dull, making it clear that the news hadn’t fully sunk in to him yet. “Long live the king.”

The other four raised their glasses in response and echoed the words. "Long live the king."

Long live King Michael.


	3. A Game of Dominoes

The crown of a king was proving to be much heavier than the crown of a prince, Michael reflected. There was no reason for it to be so different that he could find, but it was a fact nonetheless. There was a little more gold in his father’s - _his_ \- crown than there had been in the one he wore before; a few more jewels, a little larger all around, and it made Michael’s neck hurt and his head ache.

The weight wasn’t so much on his skull though, but settled into the pit of his stomach and wrapped around his chest like a thick and ever-tightening chain. He hadn’t thought there’d be so much more pressure now than before; his father had trained him well, given him plenty of responsibilities, but somehow there were hundreds more of them now that it was all left to him. Or at least, it felt that way.

Gabriel wasn’t helping either. He was heir to the throne now, but every time Michael pointed out that that title came with certain duties Gabriel seemed to find some excuse to scuttle off somewhere else. Usually with some mention of the fact that the heir to the throne _should_ be Michael’s son. Which Michael couldn’t argue with, except for the obvious fact that he didn't have a son yet.

He was beginning to agree with one of the last few things his father had said to him just a few days before his death; that Michael should have been looking for a wife a long time ago. And Michael wished he had his father to help him make sure he wasn’t going to make some insane decision that he was going to regret.

“Your majesty?”

Michael sighed, rubbing his forehead. He almost leaned forward but stopped himself. His crown was too heavy for that, he kept fearing that it would fall off. It hadn’t ever fully registered how much more the king wore his crown than the princes and princess wore theirs until now. “Good morning, Naomi.”

The royal advisor set a pile of documents down in front of him. “I left the ones that can wait and that I felt you didn’t need my help for in your office.”

Paperwork. A unique sort of hell, Michael had thought before _all_ of it became his job. Now the feeling had intensified. “Anything exceptionally urgent at the moment?”

“The Purgavains are still testy, I’m afraid.”

“Of course they are." He sighed, and reached for the report she was offering him. "I thought they had been calming down over the last few weeks?”

“They seemed to have been, your majesty, for awhile. Now they’re back to starting skirmishes at the border.”

“Have they come across ours or Humaear’s borders yet?”

“According to reports they haven’t gone any farther into Humaear than is usual, but they have been coming into Edengar. Nothing worse than a few small fights, no deaths on our side as of yet, and only a few injuries. Still, I know how you feel about letting your enemies think they have the upper hand.”

Enemies thinking Edengar was going soft had been Michael’s primary argument for banishing Lucifer. Purgavai wasn’t terrifically threatening, disorganized and fighting amongst themselves as they were, but if Purgavai continued Hellacia may begin thinking they could get away with the same. “Have Zachariah come talk to me about it later. Ambassador Kali as well.”

Naomi nodded. “Together or separately, your majesty?”

“Separately. Ambassador Kali first, I’ll give her a chance to do something about these trespasses.” He doubted she would, but he’d give her the chance for the sake of show. He couldn’t understand how Kali had become the Purgavain ambassador to Edengar, she never seemed to accomplish anything.

Naomi nodded again and made a note to herself. “I’ll tell her as soon as I leave here, your majesty. Now, you’ve had a request for a meeting from Lord Milton, I think he wants to offer his niece as a marriage option.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t suppose there’s a polite way to decline in advance.”

“It’s unlikely, sire.”

Michael sighed in resignation. “Alright. Try to keep him from staying for too long, if you can. What’s next?”

Naomi made another note to herself and pulled the next document from the pile.

* * *

 

“Do know how the Novak’s are dealing with the king’s death?” Sam asked.

Dean gave him a reprimanding look. “How would I know anything?”

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was fairly certain that Sam knew about him and Castiel, but the last thing he wanted was to say something incriminating only to find out that he didn’t. Not that he thought Sam would say anything, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

“Dean. Seriously?”

Dean shifted from one foot to the other, focusing his attention on the armor he was patching. “Okay, so say I do know. Why should I tell you?”

“I was just curious. I’m in the library most of the day, it’s not exactly where they go to discuss what’s going on. I don’t know _anything_ about what’s going on in the castle. Way more gossip comes through here; soldiers come in. I know how they are.”

“Well, they’re managing. As well as can be expected, I guess.”

Sam looked around, ensuring they hadn’t received any company that the two of them would rather not have eavesdropping. “I don’t think the king is reacting at _all._ ”

Dean sneered. “Cas says the same thing. Sometimes I don’t think Michael - sorry, _King_ Michael - feels anything at all. Only cares about his duty to the throne and the kingdom. Screw his family, if they’re an obstacle. You know, he was the biggest voice for Prince Lucifer being banished?”

Sam probably had heard about that, gossip was bound to have reached him about it sometime in the last few months, even buried behind his books as he was. Sure enough, Sam nodded. “I’d heard rumors,” he told Dean. “I can’t imagine it. Arguing to have your own brother thrown out of the kingdom.”

Dean nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I get why it had to happen, but actually being the one behind it? I don’t care what you might do, Sammy, I don’t think I could ever be the one saying that you had to be punished for it. Especially a ‘I’ll never see you again’ kind of punishment.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Dean grinned. “Can’t we talk about something more cheerful?”

“Like what? The excitement that is your job?”

“Oh, because _your_ job is riveting.”

“I didn’t suggest we start talking about my job.” Sam enjoyed his work, and Dean knew it, but he himself would be bored to tears by a discussion of old documents and ancient stories.

Someone knocked against the door frame to announce their presence. Both of them looked up casually, then shot to their feet, backs straight. Sam bowed his head. “Prince Samandriel.”

The youngest of the Novak family inclined his head just enough to acknowledge Sam’s existence before turning his attention to Dean. “We’re getting several new recruits this week. They’ll need just basic training swords, the usual. Probably about eight.”

Dean nodded, thinking. “I have three or four in the back already. I’ll get to work on the others. Do you want me to deliver them or will they come to pick them up?”

“I’ll send them to you. They have to meet you eventually, after all.”

Dean nodded. “I’ll have the swords here, then.”

Samandriel gave a single, quick nod, turned on his heel, and left the smithy.

Dean smiled and shook his head after the prince was gone. “He’s a little bit weird.”

Usually Sam would tell him that he couldn’t say something like that about a prince, but he kept quiet this time, probably remembering what he’d been saying about the king earlier. “What makes you say that?” he asked instead.

Dean shrugged, returning to his work. “He just doesn’t act much like a prince, if you ask me. Like a soldier, sure. Not a prince.”

“Do any of them besides Princess Anael and King Michael act like royalty, now that Lucifer’s been banished?”

“Sometimes, yeah. And even when goofing off or something there’s still this… I don’t know, this _aura_ around the rest of them that lets you know they’re above you on the food chain. Samandriel’s just different. And he never introduces himself as a prince. If you didn’t know he was you’d never guess it. Just seems like another member of the army. A high ranking member of the army, sure, but sometimes it takes me a minute to remember that that's not all he is.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Little of both, maybe? Sometimes it seems like he’s trying too hard, like he’s trying to prove something as the youngest. You know, the king used to tell him all the time that he was the only one with any military skill out of all of them?”

“Is that bad?”

“It's a lot of pressure to put on a kid’s shoulders, that’s what it is. Especially considering how little pressure King Charles seemed to put on the rest of his kids. Castiel told me once that his father never really seemed to expect anything of him beyond doing as he was told when he was told to do something. Definitely didn’t expect him to start leading armies at thirteen.”

“I always got the impression he enjoyed it,” Sam said. Dean could understand why, it seemed that every time he saw Samandriel he was buried in a pile of books on military history and strategy, or else training, or getting ready to train, or coming back from training. He’d always seemed to be happy about it. Or, at least, as happy as Prince Samandriel ever looked. He didn’t seem to have a broad array of facial expressions.

“Maybe,” Dean replied. “But still. Big shoes for a little guy.”

Castiel worried about it sometimes, he knew. But then, Castiel worried about a lot of things. And it really wasn’t Dean's business, in the end.

* * *

 

“I don’t know how I can make myself any clearer,” Kali was saying through gritted teeth. “I will send a messenger to relay your message to King Richard, but neither of us can just snap our fingers and make people who live on the borders instantly behave themselves. We are not ordering these attacks.”

Michael didn’t trust Kali as far as he could throw her and didn’t believe her words for a second. “Well, I suggest you _find_ a way to stop them, whether you’re ordering them or not. I’m not going to tolerate this.”

Kali made an angry noise, shot to her feet, and stormed out of the room. Michael watched her go with disinterest before stepping into the hallway to find a guard. “Tell Commander Zachariah I wish to speak with him now,” Michael ordered, and returned to the meeting room.

Zachariah had been told to expect the summons, so he arrived shortly. He gave a quick bow upon entering. “Your majesty.”

“Commander. Did Naomi tell you why I wanted to speak to you?”

“She mentioned it had something to do with Purgavains and the skirmishes on the borders, your majesty.”

Michael nodded. “I just ended a meeting with Ambassador Kali, and let’s just say that I didn’t find the conversation particularly reassuring. If the fighting stops, fantastic. If not, I want to be prepared.”

“Of course, sire. Might I suggest more patrols for the border?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of more _effective_ patrols, rather than simply more of them. Send out a patrol of some of our best, teach the Purgavains a lesson. I think that would do us more good, don’t you?”

It was mostly rhetorical but Zachariah nodded even so. “That does sound like the best course of action, your majesty. Did you have any specific men in mind?”

Michael leaned back in his chair, wondering if Zachariah was going to agree with his suggestion or if the man’s insecurities and jealousy would cause him to argue. “I believe my brother is ready to go on a patrol a bit farther from home, don’t you, Commander?”

A flicker of irritation flashed across Zachariah’s face, but it was soon reigned in and replaced with an agreeable smile. Michael chose not to acknowledge the initial reaction, the end result was far more important. “I believe he is, sire. I imagine he is plenty trained enough to handle a small number of Purgavain troublemakers.”

“Exactly. Do you have any recommendations for who he should take with him?”

Zachariah shook his head. “None that immediately come to mind, sire. I could think about it, if you like, but I imagine your brother would prefer to pick the members of his patrol personally.”

That was certainly true enough. When it came to the army Samandriel liked being in charge of as much as possible. Thankfully, he was good enough to warrant being allowed the control. “I imagine you’re right about that. I’ll talk to him later, after he’s done with training. You’re dismissed.”

Zachariah bowed again and left.

Michael had wondered about sending Samandriel out so far from home, but he thought he was ready for it. Samandriel was good at what he did and had plenty of potential to be even better. And Michael liked the security of knowing it was one of his brothers out on the borders. They felt more trustworthy than any of the other soldiers, including Zachariah.

Samandriel entered Michael’s office a few hours later, interrupting Michael’s paperwork, much to the king’s relief. The youngest Novak knocked lightly on the door as he entered to alert Michael to his presence.

“Are you busy?”

“Yes. Come in.”

Samandriel smirked and pulled over the chair that sat against the wall specifically for visitors. He sat down across from Michael, surveying the papers with an air of disgust. “That looks unpleasant. Zachariah said you wanted to talk to me about some patrols?”

Michael nodded, signed the letter to the McNivens family that he’d just finished, and set it aside. “Have you been getting the reports about the border skirmishes with Purgavai?”

Samandriel nodded. “Yes, sir. No deaths or serious injuries yet.”

“I’m hoping to keep it that way. I spoke to Ambassador Kali, and so far it doesn’t sound like she’s going to do much to stop the fights. Commander Zachariah and I agreed that the best course of action would be to send a patrol with a few more well-trained men than usual. Put them down all at once and hopefully scare them back to their side of the mountains.”

“Sounds like a sound plan to me.” Samandriel looked faintly hopeful. “Am I here because you want me to be on the patrol?”

Michael couldn’t resist. “No.” Samandriel’s face fell a little, but Michael was impressed by his control. Someone who knew him less would never have noticed the change. “I want you to lead it.”

The smile was as well hidden as the disappointment had been, but the straightening of Samandriel’s shoulders was a little more evident. It reassured Michael that sending Samandriel out was the right call.

“I thought you’d like to choose your own men.”

“Yes, sir. When would you like us to leave?”

“I’m hoping for within the week.” Which meant he _expected_ him to leave within the week, but Samandriel knew Michael well enough to know that without being told.

“I’ll be ready.”

Michael nodded and waved his hand to let Samandriel know he was dismissed. He almost called him back as he shut the door to tell him to be careful and that he was proud of him, but stopped himself. Samandriel could take care of himself, he didn’t need warnings and reassurances like a child.

Michael returned to his work.

* * *

 

“Is Michael really sending you out to the border?”

Samandriel looked up to see Castiel standing in the armory doorway, looking concerned. Of course, concerned seemed to be Castiel’s default facial expression, especially lately.

He nodded. “My patrol and I will be leaving in a few days.” He was doing his best to not let his excitement show. He felt it would be unprofessional.

Castiel frowned, stepping into the armory to allow someone to get around him and leave with their sword. “How many soldiers are you taking?”

“There will be about fifteen of us. Michael wanted to make sure that injuries wouldn’t force us to return home before we’d finished at the border.”

“And you agree with that number?”

Samandriel fought the urge to roll his eyes at his older brother. Castiel was protective, and Samandriel was the only one younger than him, causing every protective instinct in Castiel to focus onto Samandriel. “I could do it with several less, Castiel. The Purgavains are far from being military geniuses, and they've been being stopped by patrols of three or four. They won’t be much of a challenge.”

“If they aren’t a problem, why is Michael sending _you_?” Castiel challenged.

“Because he wants to make sure they _stay_ not a problem. He doesn’t want to make their king think he can start sending soldiers over and not get a response. He wants them all taken care of quickly, not gradually picked off like they're flies we don’t really care about.”

“And your opinion isn’t at all influenced by the fact that you’re glad to finally be going farther away than the next village?”

Samandriel glared at his brother. “No. It’s not. It’s just a border patrol, Castiel. The groups aren’t anything worse than usual, there’s just a few more of them and they’re coming closer. We’re just stopping a problem before it starts. Quit worrying so much.” His voice was a little harsher than he’d originally intended, but the tone seemed to make Castiel back down. He didn’t look apologetic, but he also didn’t seem willing to continue the argument.

“Alright,” he said unhappily, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just be careful out there, okay? This family has been through plenty enough already. I- I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Despite Samandriel being certain that nothing would happen to him and that Castiel was being paranoid there really wasn’t any way to argue with what he’d just said, so he nodded. “I’ll be fine, Castiel. I’ll come see you before I leave.”

Castiel nodded, not looking reassured in the slightest. “I would appreciate that. Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

“With travel time, we’ll probably be back in a little over two months. That’s my best guess, at least.” Samandriel never kept patrols on a strict schedule, there were too many things that he couldn’t anticipate and having to change a schedule was far more stressful than just never having one to begin with.

“Okay,” Castiel said reluctantly. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

It may have been meant as a joke - it was hard to tell with Castiel - but it came out very somber. Samandriel found himself wishing for Balthazar or Gabriel, who knew how to keep things light-hearted. They didn’t appear, however, and Samandriel just forced a smile and nodded agreement. “Don’t worry about me, Castiel. I can take care of myself.”

* * *

 

“Cas, for crying out loud, would you sit down? You’re making _me_ nervous!”

Castiel jumped a little at Dean’s outburst; he’d nearly forgotten that the blacksmith was there and that he wasn’t in his room at the castle. He sat down at the table despite his jangling nerves telling him that he would be much more comfortable continuing to pace around the smithy. “I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it. But wearing a hole in my floor isn’t going to help you much.”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably and started to drum his fingers on the tabletop until Dean reached out and grabbed his hand, giving him a small smile. “Breathe, Cas. He’ll be fine. Samandriel’s tough.”

“All soldiers are ‘tough,’ Dean,” Cas said, not at all comforted. “That doesn’t mean they all make it back home again.”

“Cas, he’s one of the princes of Edengar. No one’s going to let anything happen to him. He’ll make it home just fine, you’ll see.”

Castiel could see the logic in what Dean was saying, and objectively knew that he was right, but… “He’s my little brother, Dean. I don’t want anything to happen to him. I don’t want him in a position where something _could_ happen to him. I mean, you wouldn’t let Sam go off to a potential war zone without a fight, would you?”

Dean laughed. “Sam, in battle? That’d be interesting to see. Guy’s practically a saint, remember? But I get what you mean. No, I wouldn’t be happy about it. But he’s a grown man. And so is Samandriel. Neither of us get a lot of say in it. Besides, younger siblings have a great skill of being stubborn as mules.”

Cas nodded agreement, then frowned as he considered Dean’s words. “I’m a younger sibling.”

Dean smiled wide, mischief glinting in his eyes in a way not unlike Gabriel or Balthazar’s before a well-planned prank. “Yes, you are.”

“Are you calling me stubborn, Dean?”

Dean leaned forward until their foreheads were touching and spoke in a low voice. “Why? Would you have a problem with that?”

In reply, Cas lunged forward, pushing their mouths together in a harsh kiss. Dean made a satisfied noise and brought his hands up to fist into Castiel’s shirt. Without breaking the contact Dean pulled them away from the table, carefully making his way backwards toward the bedroom.

“Dean,” Cas said after a moment, voice muffled by Dean’s mouth. “ _Dean_ ,” he tried again, pulling away a little.

Dean made a disgruntled sound but let him go. “What?”

Castiel smiled, kissing him softly in apology and pulling away before Dean could deepen it. “You realize that we will kill ourselves if we try to go up the stairs while locked together that way?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Who said I had any intention of making it all the way upstairs and to the bedroom?” And he pushed forward again, kissing Castiel hard enough to silence any protests, a firm hand on the prince’s hip steering him along. Castiel didn’t mind. Not even when Dean threw his shirt across the room and Castiel felt the soft fabric of Dean’s rug against his back.

“Have I succeeded in making you stop thinking yet?” Dean growled playfully into his ear, hands reaching for Castiel’s belt.

Castiel started to say that he was doing a fair job of it, but Dean’s hand was suddenly inside his pants and Castiel’s brain turned to a fuzz of white pleasure.

* * *

 

In spite of everyone around him seeming to be certain that he had a very good chance of getting himself killed, Samandriel’s entire body was practically humming with excitement. He kept himself reigned in, a picture of discipline to anyone who saw him, but inwardly he was raring to go. Feorh could sense it, he kept dancing in place.

Samandriel leaned down and patted his neck. “We’ll be out of here pretty soon,” he assured the horse. “Hester!” he called out. “Is everyone ready yet?”

Hester spun around slowly, doing a final check, then nodded before swinging herself into her saddle. “All ready, sir!”

“Let’s head out then!” Samandriel waved his arm to indicate that they should fall in behind him and led the way out of the castle grounds, on to the road that would take them to the Purgavain border. As he turned he saw Castiel and Anael standing on the castle steps, watching him go with concern in their eyes. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, trying to tell them, yet again, that they didn’t need to worry about him.

Not that they’d listen. They were worriers, far more so than Gabriel, Balthazar, or Michael. Or Lucifer, though his worrying habits were no longer relevant.

Samandriel shook his head to stop that line of thinking, sternly told himself not to think about how he wished his father was here, and straightened himself further. He liked the feeling of sitting in the saddle, clad in light chainmail, knowing that he was good at what he was doing and that he was respected for it, not just praised for his bloodlines. He didn’t know how his siblings stood all the bowing and scraping that followed them around. The day he’d known for sure that he’d beaten that attitude out of his soldiers had been one of the best of his life.

The road to Purgavai was a long one, and mostly boring. Edengar didn’t have anymore contact with the Purgavains than was strictly necessary, so most of the large villages and such were on the road to Humaear instead. The way to Purgavai was mostly lined with farms and small cottages. Pleasant enough, but sleeping along the side of the road because of the lack of inns did get tiresome after awhile.

Still, even the hot days and cool nights, the biting winds that came and went with no clear pattern, and the rocky ground they used for a bed, weren’t enough to make Samandriel wish he was back in the castle, with his comfortable bed and servants and well cooked food. It was invigorating, being out like this.

Hester laughed the first time she realized that Samandriel really meant it, and wasn’t just putting on a face for the sake of the soldiers.

“You really think this is a great experience, don’t you?” she asked over dinner, noticing Samandriel leaned back and watching the sun as it finished slinking over the horizon.

“Of course. You don’t?”

“I think I’d like the experience of my warm bed a bit more.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just because it’s new to me then. But I like being out of the castle and feeling like I’m doing something besides sitting around and being told what I’d have to do if all of my siblings suddenly dropped dead.”

Hester chuckled. “I suppose that doesn’t sound like the most exciting of things. But you really don’t mind not having your servants around for when you need something?”

Samandriel gave a derisive snort. “I don’t like having servants do every little thing for me. I’m capable of dressing and feeding myself, thanks. I’m not helpless.”

“Don’t your brothers and sister use their servants?”

“Michael does.” Lucifer did too, but he caught himself before he made the mistake of saying so. “And so do Balthazar and Gabriel, but that’s just because they’re lazy and get bored easily. Anael and Castiel, not so much. The three of us are generally pretty independent.”

She tilted her head and gave him an appraising look. “You don’t really act like I would expect a prince to, you know that?”

Samandriel shrugged. “This many people from the throne? I didn’t have to have the intense princely training my brothers and sister got. I’ve been told that it shows.”

She nodded, agreed that it did, and then the two of them moved to clean their dishes and get some rest.

The patrol reached the mountains bordering Purgavai and Edengar at last, still without any signs of trouble. Samandriel didn’t think much of it though, as most of the reports of skirmishes had come from people who were actually in the mountains at the time, an area the Purgavains were supposed to stay out of unless they had official business taking them through the paths.

“Keep your eyes open,” Samandriel cautioned as evening drew near on their second day in the mountains. “This would be an ideal place for an ambush.”

They were silent as they maneuvered their way through the narrow pass, single file and eyes watching the mountain walls that surrounded them. There were plenty of caves and crevices, an easy place for the Purgavains to hide, especially if they hadn’t brought horses with them and were navigating the mountains on foot.

Halfway through a shout came from the back of the line, a wordless cry that was cut off quickly. Someone else shouted, Samandriel yanked his horse around to see what was happening, and all hell broke loose right then and there.

A horse screamed, and the sound was echoed by Hester. Samandriel saw her fall from her horse but was unable to help her, arrows flying down on all sides. Someone’s blood splattered against the side of his face, but he didn’t have time to see whose it was.

Another horse screamed, louder this time, and Samandriel didn’t realize it was his own until the animal was falling out from under him, sending them both crashing to the ground. He heard a bone snap and a far away feeling of pain told him it might have been his leg.

There was shouting everywhere, the sound of swords and arrows and armor filling the air with a dreadful din. Samandriel managed to pull a knife from his belt, lashing out at any of their attackers that came near, thinking he was helpless because he was pinned under his horse. He even managed to bring two of them to the ground.

But they were vastly outnumbered and their attackers were more organized than Samandriel had ever heard of Purgavains being and the fighting stopped far too quickly, the mountain pass falling silent. Samandriel shut his eyes, sending a silent apology to his family, expecting that he’d be finished off any moment now.

Instead, strong hands gripped his arm and pulled him away from Feorh’s lifeless form, uncaring of the pain it caused Samandriel. His hands were wrenched behind him and tied, a gag was forced into his mouth, and a bag pulled over his head. And then he was on a horse, fighting to not pass out from the pain in his leg, his heart racing.

* * *

 

Michael was going to murder Gabriel. Slowly, with great forethought. He had so many things to take care of all at once and Gabriel was supposed to have come to help him, but he had disappeared off to God only knew where, leaving Michael without enough hours in his day once again.

Someone opened his door without bothering to announce themselves in any way. Michael looked up, ready to take out his anger at Gabriel on whoever it was. “Zachariah! I ordered that I wasn’t to be disturbed!”

Zachariah didn’t even flinch, eyes wide and panicked about something else entirely. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but I’m certain you’re going to want to make an exception for this.”

Michael sighed, planning to put the man in the stocks if this didn’t turn out to be important. “What's happened?”

“It’s Hester, sir, one of the soldiers from Samandriel’s patrol to the border. She just made it back to the castle and… Sire, she says she’s the only survivor of the patrol.”

Michael shot to his feet. “Is she sure of that? Where is she?” He started to storm out of the room, expecting that Zachariah would answer him as he moved.

“She’s still with the physician, your majesty, but she was conscious when I saw her.”

Michael headed towards the clinic, anger rolling off him in waves, warning everyone he passed to stay out of his way. He nearly ran Castiel over halfway there as the younger man came through a door.

“Michael? What’s going on?”

“Samandriel.” And Michael kept going, now with Castiel on his heels as well as Zachariah.

“What happened?”

Michael didn’t answer, letting Zachariah give the report. “Hester returned today. She says the rest of the patrol is dead.”

He couldn’t see Castiel’s face, but it was easy to imagine it; the way the blood would drain away and the blue eyes widen. He heard his breath catch.

Michael didn’t turn around. He still needed to talk to Hester, not worry about Castiel.

The woman was badly injured, he could see immediately. It was a miracle that she’d managed to get herself to help.

“What happened?”

Pamela, the physician, looked up and opened her mouth as though to tell him off, but saw his face and thought better of it.

Hester strained to sit up a little. “We were in the mountains,” she said, her voice faint and ragged as she struggled for breath. “Ambushed… They were well organized… outnumbered us.”

“How did you escape?” God help him, if she’d abandoned Samandriel in the midst of the fighting…

“Fell from my horse… passed out. They must have left me for dead. Everyone was dead when I woke up again. Purgavains were gone. Had to crawl most of the way to the next guard station.”

She was deathly pale and looked almost ready to pass out, but Michael pressed on anyway. “And Samandriel?”

She shook her head. “I looked. Couldn’t find him. His horse was dead though.” She panted a few times, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness. Pamela shooed him, Castiel, and Zachariah away.

“He might not be dead then,” Castiel said hopefully once they were in the hallway.

“For the Purgavains sake, he had better not be.” It seemed unlikely, even if Samandriel had survived the attack, that he was still alive. With as long as it took to get between Edengar’s capitol and the Purgavain border the attack must have happened almost two full weeks ago. Still, Michael wasn’t prepared to give up hope entirely. He began walking purposefully down the hallway.

Zachariah remained behind him, thinking the king wanted some space to himself after the news, but Castiel ran to catch up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to talk to Ambassador Kali.”

* * *

 

**_Samandriel could hear distant speaking. Hands on his wrists. A Hellacian accent. “Any weaknesses I should know about?” White pain. A scream._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up in advance, the next chapter - which will be posted on Friday - will contain non-graphic depictions of violence/torture. There won't be much of it, just a sentence or two at a time, but it will be littered throughout the chapter, so if it's not your cup of tea, you may want to consider skipping chapter four.


	4. A Race Against Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warning as at the end of the last chapter - non-graphic descriptions of violence and torture. Also, in case I didn't make it clear enough, the parts that are in bold italics are Samandriel's point of view.

**_A glint of metal shines in the darkness._**

******************************************************************************

Ambassador Kali’s chambers were in a separate tower from the main part of the castle, so by the time Castiel and Michael reached her they’d had plenty of time to get furious about what had happened. Castiel was seeing red and his fists were clenched. He couldn’t remember ever having wanted to hurt someone so much as he did right now. If Samandriel turned out to be dead… Well, Kali had better pray that he didn’t.

******************************************************************************

**_Metal screeching against metal._ **

******************************************************************************

Michael didn’t bother to knock, just wrenched the doorknob and flung the door open. The two of them took a few steps in and Michael stopped dead. Castiel nearly ran into him before looking around and realizing what he’d seen.

Lying on Kali’s bed, completely unclothed and staring at them with wide eyes and pale faces, were Kali and Gabriel.

There was stunned silence for a dragged-out minute, Castiel distantly thinking that he was really glad there was a blanket over them. There were things about his brother he didn’t ever want to know.

Kali recovered first, sitting up, not bothering to bring the blanket with her. Castiel looked away. Michael didn’t. “Have you boys never heard of knocking?” she said, sounding irritated.

Gabriel sat up slowly, looking as though he was trying to turn invisible. He _did_ keep the blanket up. “Wh-What are you guys doing here?”

Michael gave Gabriel a glare that could have lit a room on fire. “We’ll talk about _this_ later.” He turned his gaze back to Kali. “I’m here for _you_.”

Kali looked confused and a little of her confidence seemed to seep away. “What now? Here to yell at me about border skirmishes again? Your baby brother come running back in tears?”

Gabriel pulled away from her a little at the bite in her voice. “Kali…”

“Be quiet, Gabriel. I’m tired of your brother’s accusations. Your father was never like this, but apparently he didn’t pass on his manners to his son.”

“Samandriel’s _dead_ , you bitch,” Castiel found himself saying before the fighting could progress _._

******************************************************************************

**_Sobs through gritted teeth._ **

******************************************************************************

Kali’s jaw dropped and all the blood drained out of Gabriel’s face. “He’s - he’s _what?”_ Castiel had never heard Gabriel’s voice break before, not even when their father died. He winced, thinking that maybe he could have broken the news a little more gently. But really, what good way was there to say it?

Michael didn’t share his concern. “He’s dead, Gabriel. The patrol was ambushed by an organized group of Purgavains and outnumbered. Hester made it back alive, everyone else is dead. And Samandriel’s missing.”

Gabriel had found his pants and was now partially dressed, stumbling out of the bed. “Missing? So then he might still be alive?”

Michael met Kali’s eyes dead-on and Castiel had never before been so appreciative of having never gotten Michael really angry at him. “He might be. He _better_ be. But if he is, he’s been captured by the Purgavains.”

The king stepped across the room, leaning over Kali so that he was only a few inches from her face. She recoiled a little, although Castiel could see in her face that she was still trying to put on a brave front. “If he’s been captured, I know nothing about it.”

Michael made a noise that made it clear that he didn’t believe a word she said. “Then you had better learn something about it. Because I swear, _ambassador,_ if I don’t get my little brother back and soon, I will start a war, and I will burn your entire country to the ground if I need to.”

He pulled away, gesturing for Castiel and Gabriel to follow. Gabriel did so with a slump to his shoulders, looking at Kali as though he were torn between feeling betrayed and giving her an apology for Michael’s behavior.

“Gabriel!” Michael shouted from the hallway, and Gabriel grabbed his shirt and scampered out before the oldest Novak could get any angrier. Castiel followed on his heels, not bothering to look back at Kali.

******************************************************************************

**_He bites through his tongue to keep from answering questions._ **

******************************************************************************

 _“_ Castiel, go tell Balthazar and Anael what’s happened and bring them here,” Michael instructed him, never taking his eyes off Gabriel, who was nervously shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to another. He was dressed now, but haphazardly so. Michael didn’t care much about Gabriel’s dignity right now.

Castiel nodded and left, hoping he wasn’t going to return to find Gabriel bleeding out on the floor.

He caught Balthazar in the hallway as the older man was heading out in search of a good time. “Hey there, Cas. Want to join me for a drink?”

It struck Castiel as being very odd that Balthazar could be so cheerful simply because he hadn’t heard the news. Bizarre that the entire world could look different simply based off whether or not he’d heard one simple sentence.

Balthazar tilted his head, some of his light-hearted demeanor dimming. “Castiel? Is something wrong?”

Castiel swallowed, wishing Michael had come to deliver the news himself. “One of the soldiers from the patrol to the border came back today. They were ambushed. There were more Purgavains than the reports had said.”

The look on Balthazar’s face was so similar to the one he’d worn when their father had died that Castiel wanted to vomit. He pushed away the mental image of Samandriel lying in a mountain pass somewhere, beaten and bloody and…

Balthazar’s voice broke into his thoughts. “And Samandriel? Is he…?”

“Missing. Everyone else in the patrol was killed, apparently, but she couldn’t find Samandriel’s… She couldn’t find his body.”

“So he might still be… alive?”

Castiel shrugged helplessly. “I hope so. But Michael pointed out earlier that if he is he’s probably been captured by the Purgavains.”

“Kali?”

Castiel breathed out slowly. “Already went to her. And you wouldn’t believe who she was in bed with.”

Balthazar’s eyes went wide, and even with the stress Castiel could see a part of his mind honing in on the fresh gossip. “Who?”

“Gabriel.”

Balthazar’s jaw dropped. “ _That’s_ where he’s been sneaking off to?”

“Apparently. He and Michael are in Michael’s meeting room, Michael wants us and Anael to meet them there.”

Balthazar shook his head. “God. We’re just cursed lately, aren’t we? Lucifer, Father, now Samandriel…”

“Stop it. He’s… He could still be alive. He could… It could be a hostage situation or something.”

“Oddly enough, little brother, I don’t find that thought any more comforting.

Castiel really didn’t either.

******************************************************************************

**_His arm won’t move away from the knife that’s coming towards it._ **

******************************************************************************

The two of them had to go outside towards the stables to find Anael. She was dressed casually, the kind of outfit that drove Michael crazy more often than not, and was apparently freshly back from a ride.

“Hello, you two,” she greeted when she saw them. She paused, studying their faces.

“Good lord, who died?”

Both of them flinched and Anael’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Who - What - Samandriel?”

Castiel nodded miserably. “Hester couldn’t find his body, but they were attacked two weeks ago and even if he wasn’t killed-”

“He’d have been taken hostage,” Ana finished. She started absent-mindedly twirling her hair around one finger. “What are we doing? What’s _Michael_ doing?”

“At the moment he’s waiting for us in his meeting room. With Gabriel. Who has been sharing a bed with Kali.”

Anael’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“When was the last time Cas here told a joke?” Balthazar said, tone distracted, as they began to make their way to where Michael was waiting. “Besides that, Michael apparently threatened Kali with war if she doesn’t find a way to make Purgavai give Samandriel back in one piece.”

Anael raised an eyebrow. “Does he think the order came from their king? That this wasn’t just a rogue group?”

“Just because Michael wasn’t the one who wanted to go to war doesn’t mean he’s any less paranoid about our neighbors than Lucifer was,” Balthazar told her.

And then they’d returned to Michael’s meeting room and had to stop that conversation.

******************************************************************************

**_Blood splattering the floor._ **

******************************************************************************

Gabriel seemed to be making an attempt to shrink into a chair when the three of them entered. Michael was still standing and his glare hadn’t diminished in the slightest.

“You really expect me to believe that you never told her _anything_ that she wasn’t supposed to know?” Michael was saying. “She never asked you something during the afterglow and you just figured ‘sure, what could it hurt?’ That never happened?”

“ _No!_ I swear, we never talked about politics or work, ever!”

“Kali?” Balthazar guessed, simultaneously announcing their entrance and joining the conversation.

Michael nodded, not looking at them, but Gabriel shot them each a look of desperation, silently pleading for them to get Michael to calm down before he killed someone.

“I just find it a little odd,” Michael said, and Castiel wasn’t sure if he was talking to Gabriel or to them, “that no one near the border had any idea there was such a large group and that the first sighting of them resulted in one of Edengar’s princes either being killed or kidnapped. A bit too much of a coincidence for me.”

“It wasn’t exactly a secret that Samandriel was going out on patrol to the border!” Gabriel protested. “I didn’t tell Kali anything! And even if I had, I didn’t know anything that wasn’t already common knowledge. And Kali wouldn’t order Samandriel kidnapped anyway!”

“You have an awful lot of faith in her,” Michael said, and his tone made it clear that Gabriel had best choose his next words carefully.

Gabriel swallowed. “We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well,” he offered lamely. “She wouldn’t do that. Whatever their king wants, Kali would prefer we stayed at peace with Purgavai.”

“I thought you two didn’t talk about politics.”

“We _don’t_. She’s just not that type of person! She- You guys are with me, right?” He looked to his younger siblings for support.

Castiel almost felt like a traitor for not saying anything, but he was fairly suspicious himself. Michael was right, it was too much of a coincidence. Someone had to have told the Purgavains, and right now Kali seemed like the most likely culprit. Balthazar and Anael must have agreed with him too, as neither of them said anything either.

Gabriel’s face fell. “I didn’t tell her anything, I swear. And I would never put Samandriel in danger, you have to know _that_ at least.”

******************************************************************************

**_He can see one of his own bones._ **

******************************************************************************

“Maybe not intentionally,” Michael said in an unforgiving tone. “But on accident? It wouldn’t be the first time a disaster had come from someone not watching their mouth closely enough. You know what they say about loose lips sinking ships.”

“What are we going to do now?” Anael asked.

“Gabriel is going to be on lock down inside the castle until further notice, for starters. Kali’s going back to Purgavai to warn King Richard about my intention of declaring war if we don’t find Samandriel, but I don’t want you finding someone new to spill secrets to. _Don’t_ argue with me.”

Gabriel, who had moved to protest, sank back down into his seat.

Michael nodded in satisfaction. “And we’ll send out search parties all along the border and into Purgavai. If they don’t like us there they can get over it and deal. If Samandriel is still out there, we’re going to find him, and we’re going to bring him home.”

“Can I be in the search party?” Castiel asked before Michael had a chance to leave.

“Me too,” Anael said.

“Same,” Balthazar chimed in.

“Not all three of you, I want at least one of you to stay here. You can fight out who goes and who stays on your own time. But yes, two of you can join the search parties. Talk to Commander Zachariah, I’m going to him next. And soon, I want the searches going as soon as humanly possible.”

He turned to face Gabriel one more time. “And you will not leave the castle. Understood?”

Gabriel nodded, keeping his mouth shut for once. Castiel had never seen him so miserable.

Michael left, Gabriel slunk away, and Anael, Balthazar, and Castiel were left to decide which of them had to sit helplessly at home while their youngest brother was quite possibly out there somewhere, alone and in pain.

******************************************************************************

**_He’s accepted that no one can hear him._ **

******************************************************************************

Castiel felt guilty for finding it a relief to step into the smithy that night. Dean was waiting for him, eyes filled with concern.

“How are you holding up?”

Castiel liked that question. Not ‘are you okay’ when he obviously wasn’t, but asking how he was dealing with the pain Dean knew he was in. “Alright. For now.”

“Are you in one of the search parties leaving tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Anael and I both are. Balthazar wanted to be, but Michael didn’t want all of us out there at once. Have you heard about Gabriel yet?”

“I heard a rumor he’s not supposed to leave the castle.”

“Have you heard about Kali?”

“Saw her leaving the castle grounds in a hurry earlier. Rumor is that she’s gone to convince the Purgavain king to send Samandriel back.”

“True enough. Not the whole story though. You have to promise not to tell, all right? Michael wants this kept quiet as long as possible. Indefinitely, if it can be.”

“I won’t tell. You can trust me.”

Despite himself, Castiel smiled. He could, couldn’t he? That was a nice thing to be reminded of. “Gabriel and Kali have been… seeing each other. Michael thinks Gabriel told her where Samandriel and his patrol would be and that’s how they were ambushed so easily.”

“Whoa. Do you believe it?”

Did he? Castiel still wasn’t certain. “I don’t know. I certainly don’t think he did so on purpose, but Gabriel isn’t always the most responsible person. And he seems to trust Kali a great deal. I can’t say whether or not that trust is deserved.”

Dean put a comforting hand on Castiel’s arm. “I’d tell you that it’s going to be okay, but if something happened to Sammy I know that wouldn’t help me feel any better. So just tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

The blacksmith gave him a gentle smile before jerking his head towards the bedroom. “Do you want to stay here for the night?”

Castiel hesitated. “I would, but…” He paused, wondering if he could explain this properly. “I don’t think it would feel right, Dean. Being safe and warm and comforted with you, when my little brother is out there somewhere.” ‘ _he has to be out there somewhere,’_ Cas thought, doing his best not to think of the alternative, “And he’s probably terrified and alone and hurt… I just wouldn’t feel right.”

Dean nodded understanding and Castiel knew he was thinking of how he’d feel if his own younger brother disappeared like this.

Cas smiled his thanks, kissed Dean once, lightly, and left before he could change his mind.

******************************************************************************

**_His mouth tastes like blood._ **

******************************************************************************

Castiel had thought that being part of the search party would keep him from feeling helpless like he had during everything that had happened with Lucifer and their father, but he was being proven wrong. If anything, being on the road was making it _worse_. At least Balthazar, Gabriel, and Michael, back at the castle, could imagine that Samandriel would be fine and that he was on his way back already.

Castiel and Anael couldn’t. They were all too well aware of how long the trip to the border was, how far away they were from Samandriel. And of the fact that they didn’t actually have any idea where he was, or if he was even still alive.

“We’re still a full week from the mountains,” Anael said one night when they should have both been sleeping. “I keep feeling like we shouldn’t be stopping.”

Castiel knew what she meant. “Same here. I understand why we have to, but I’d much rather stay moving.”

Anael nodded. She tilted her head back to look up at the dark sky and the few stars they could see between the clouds. “Do you think he knows we’re looking for him?”

“Of course he does,” Castiel told her. Whether or not he believed they’d succeed in finding him was another story, but that wasn’t what Anael had asked about. “He knows we’d do anything to bring him home again.”

She sighed. “I’m tired of having to deal with this sort of shit. First Lucifer, then Father, now Samandriel… I refuse to lose any more family, Castiel. I can’t deal with it. I _won’t_.”

He reached out and they clasped their hands together. “We won’t lose anyone else,” he promised, putting all of his will into making himself believe it. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it either.

******************************************************************************

**_Days don’t exist anymore._ **

******************************************************************************

One of the soldiers who had found Hester and helped to bring her back to the castle was in the search group too.

"Did you see anything that might help us determine where we should be looking?" Castiel asked him as they drew closer to the border.

The man shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, your majesty. Whether he left the area of his own free will or was taken, his tracks were well covered. If I didn't know his body was missing I would say that everyone who was supposed to be in that pass was there."

Castiel shook his head. "Thirteen dead soldiers, fifteen dead horses, a missing prince… I much prefer it when things are quiet and boring."

The man nodded and tried to smile in a way that Castiel assumed was meant as reassuring. "I imagine the rest of your family feels the same way, your highness."

******************************************************************************

**_He can’t remember if he’s talked or not. He can’t remember what questions he’s been asked._ **

******************************************************************************

A part of Castiel breathed out in relief when the mountain range loomed before them at last. Whatever had happened to Samandriel, surely it wouldn't take them much longer to find out about it now.

******************************************************************************

**_Sometimes he hears screaming and it takes him a minute to realize it’s him._ **

******************************************************************************

The soldier who found Hester lead them to the site of the ambush first. It had been cleaned up, of course, so there weren't dead and rotting corpses littering the area. The animals had made quick work of anything that was left too, so there was no longer much there that would indicate that thirteen of their people had been slaughtered there less than a month before. For the first time it occurred to Castiel to wonder how many Purgavains Samandriel and his men had managed to kill before they were killed themselves. There had to have been several.

******************************************************************************

**_If he hasn’t talked yet his secrets are safe. He can no longer remember his own name._ **

******************************************************************************

From the battle site, the search group split up into several much smaller groups. Castiel and Anael went separate directions, hoping that one of them would be there if - _when_ \- Samandriel was found.

******************************************************************************

**_He can’t scream anymore, his voice is gone._ **

******************************************************************************

Anael's group was to go farther into the mountains and see if they could find any sort of trail or hint of what had happened next. If Samandriel somehow had left the pass of his own volition, that was the way he'd have gone.

Castiel's group, on the other hand, was making the morbid assumption that Samandriel had been captured and was therefore somewhere inside the Purgavain borders. Castiel, despite knowing it was more likely, was praying that wasn't the case. He didn't know how they could possibly hope to find Samandriel if he wasn't in the mountains anymore. There was simply too much ground to cover.

******************************************************************************

**_He can’t see and he doesn’t know if it’s the darkness and the blood or if they’ve taken his eyes._ **

******************************************************************************

The view of Purgavai might have been a nice one, if the circumstances were different. If Castiel had come as an ambassador or something similar, rather than as a man desperate to find his younger brother. As it was, hell would come raining down on anyone who got in his way.

Their rather large group slit up once they left the mountain pass. They made sure that everyone had the homing pigeons they’d use to let each other know when the search was over, and Castiel rode with the group heading directly into the heart of Purgavai.

******************************************************************************

**_There’s an argument somewhere. He wants the quiet back so he can sleep._ **

******************************************************************************

The road seemed to be almost completely deserted, and Castiel found himself wishing that someone in their company knew a bit more about Purgavai so he could know whether or not that was normal.

******************************************************************************

**_The accent talking to him is familiar. Purgavain. He doesn’t know the voice._ **

******************************************************************************

The few people they’ve seen have managed to convince everyone that they don’t know anything. Castiel was still suspicious of a few of them, but he could admit that it was probably just his worry.

Either that or Purgavai was filled with the world’s most talented liars. He started praying that they weren’t finding anything because Samandriel had been taken in a different direction and that another group was having more luck.

******************************************************************************

**_Hands on his face. Warm. Gentle. Large._ **

******************************************************************************

Three days after they left the mountains Castiel and his group finally came across a decent-sized village. It occurred to the prince that the soldiers somewhat aggressive questioning tactics may trigger a war if they weren't careful, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. No one was being killed or permanently injured, and Castiel felt that was the best any of them could ask for under the circumstances.

Still, a nagging voice in the back of his head wondered if Anael would be doing the same thing if they’d switched search groups.

******************************************************************************

**_He’s not in a chair anymore._ **

******************************************************************************

One person in the village they’d passed through had admitted to seeing someone who may or may not have been Samandriel come through, surrounded by Purgavain soldiers. He hadn’t been able to give them anything beyond a vague direction to head in, but at least they knew they were headed in the _right_ direction.

Castiel was uncertain about whether or not he should be happy about that.

******************************************************************************

**_Soft reassurances in his ear. He can’t make out words._ **

******************************************************************************

They had left the village almost two full days ago and there was nothing even dimly resembling a lead anymore. Castiel was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. They had sent the pigeon out to the other search groups so there would be more of them soon, but Castiel wasn’t certain that would be enough. Purgavai was a big country, and it wouldn’t be long before somebody became angry about the Edengardians presence there.

******************************************************************************

**_A horse under him. The saddle hurts, but there’s a warm body at his back._ **

******************************************************************************

A horse appeared on the road in the early morning of the third day. Castiel didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but as it drew closer it began to catch his interest a little more. A half hour after it had first appeared, Castiel could see that it had two riders.

Fifteen minutes after that he could dimly see their faces. The man on the back was large, with a short beard and a hat and somewhat ragged clothes.

The man in front of him was bloodstained and one of his legs looked broken.

Castiel wanted to hit himself for not recognizing him sooner.

Castiel kicked his horse to a gallop, shouting at the man on the horse to stop where he was, or else. The man stopped immediately, putting his hands up with the palms out.

“Samandriel!”

******************************************************************************

**_He forces his eyes open. He’s not blind after all._ **

 


	5. Blood for Blood

When Samandriel finally woke up the first thing that occurred to him was that he was actually lying down for once. It was nice, he thought. Much better than sleeping while tied to a chair. The second thing that occurred to him was that although he ached all over he didn’t feel like there was currently anything cutting into him. That was nice too.

He hunted through his memory to see if he could figure out why things had changed. There’d been an argument, he knew that, although he couldn't remember what had been said. And then he’d been on a horse. And something else. Someone shouting…

His eyes flew open. “Castiel!” his voice was hoarse and not nearly as loud as he’d intended, but Castiel fell into his line of vision almost immediately.

“Samandriel! Oh, thank God, you’re awake.” Samandriel didn’t think Castiel had ever looked so relieved.

“Where am I?”

Castiel didn’t answer straight away, reaching away and coming back with some water, which Samandriel accepted gratefully. Castiel motioned for him to not try to sit up beyond lifting his head, and held onto the cup the whole time. “We’re in the mountains at the border.”

“We’re going home?” he asked hopefully. That seemed most likely, but Samandriel’s thoughts were still a little fuzzy and he didn’t entirely trust them.

Castiel nodded, gently stroking Samandriel’s hair out of his face. “We’re going home,” he confirmed. “We’re moving slowly, though.You've been unconscious for the past few days, you’re pretty badly hurt.”

Samandriel looked down at himself as best as he could without sitting up. He was covered by blankets and couldn't see any injuries, but he still didn’t feel like he was all that badly off. “I am?”

Castiel flashed him a concerned look. “You can’t feel it? You’re not in pain?”

“Not as much as I was.”

Castiel’s face contorted and Samandriel realized that may not have been the most comforting thing to say.

He changed the subject. “How long have I been - gone?” ‘Held captive’ was a stomach-turning thought; he didn’t want to say it aloud.

Castiel’s fingers threaded through his hair again, but pulled away when Samandriel winced as he brushed against a sore spot. “Your patrol was attacked about a month ago.” Castiel hesitated, but seemed to decide to press on with what he was saying. “What do you remember?”

“I remember being ambushed. They killed - God, they killed everyone. There were _dozens_ of them.” He shut his eyes, trying to slow his breathing.

Castiel laid a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Easy, Samandriel. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Just-just give me a moment.”

Castiel nodded. There was a brief silence, then he spoke again. “They’re not all dead, Samandriel.”

He opened his eyes again and looked hopefully at his brother. “They’re not?”

“Hester survived. She found some other soldiers and made it back to the castle. That’s how we knew to start looking for you so soon.”

One of them made it out. That was something, he supposed. He shut his eyes again, considering falling asleep again. Then he remembered and opened them again. “Someone got me out. I was with him when you found us.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “We found you on the road sharing a horse with a man who introduced himself as Benny Lafitte. He claims his conscience wouldn’t let him leave you there.”

“You-” A fit of coughing interrupted him and Castiel handed him some more water. “You don’t believe him?” Samandriel asked once sufficiently recovered.

“I’m cautious about him. I wanted your side of the story before I started promising rewards."

“I don’t remember much. I just _hurt_ all over, and then there was a man untying me and telling me everything was going to be okay. He had a Purgavain accent, I remember that. I remember I was on a horse with him, and then hearing you shout my name. That’s about it.”

Castiel nodded. “You passed out. Benny had to hold you up on the horse to keep you from falling off.”

“Oh.” Samandriel was suddenly feeling exhausted.

Castiel smiled fondly at him, fixed the blankets, and stood up. “Get some rest, Samandriel. Either Anael or I will stay with you until we get home. You’re safe now.”

 _Safe._ Balthazar had once told him that four letter words were the most powerful, and though Samandriel was fairly certain he’d meant certain _other_ four lettered words, it seemed very true right now. It was strange, being able to draw so much comfort from such a little word. But it was comforting. Very. For the first time in a month he sank into darkness feeling secure instead of feeling as though he was sleeping to escape from something.

* * *

 

“Any change?” Anael asked when she ducked back into the tent.

Castiel nodded, pleased to be giving out good news for once. “He was awake for a few minutes earlier.”

“Really? That’s great! Was he - you know, was he coherent?”

“He seemed fine, all things considered. A little bit groggy and his memories of being held captive weren’t very clear, but that’s to be expected. And maybe a good thing.”

Ana made an agreeing sound. “Considering how he was obviously being tortured it’s probably best that he can’t remember all the details.”

Castiel only hoped it would stay that way. Dean had once talked to him about his mother’s death, saying that he’d dealt with it fairly well for a long time, but one night he just began to have awful nightmares about it. They’d taken years to stop. Castiel couldn’t even begin to guess at how to help Samandriel through something like that.

“Did he say anything about-” Anael jerked her head to indicate outside the tent. “-about ‘Benjamin Lafitte’?”

“Like I said, he doesn’t remember much, but he says he remembers that someone with a Purgavain accent took him out of wherever he was. We were planning on taking Lafitte to Michael anyway; there’s no rush for Samandriel to remember anything more specific.”

“So long as Lafitte doesn’t turn out to be one of his captors who’s just a very talented liar.”

The thought had crossed Castiel’s mind, but it seemed unlikely. “If he’s one of his captors why would he be moving him alone the way he was? Why would he be moving him at all?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not going to trust him just because I don’t have proof that I shouldn’t.”

“I didn’t say you should.” Castiel started for the tent entrance. “Speaking of Lafitte, I’m going to go talk to him. You’ll stay with Samandriel, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Anael sat down next to Samandriel, giving him an appraising look. Her gaze lingered on his obviously badly broken leg and Castiel saw the flicker of regret that she couldn’t help him pass over her face. He felt the same way. The leg wasn’t even the worst of it. Some of the gashes that had been carved into his arms… Castiel wasn’t certain Samandriel would ever be able to use the limbs properly again.

He stepped out into the dimming light, wishing he’d thought to pick up his coat as he left. The mountain passes were usually cool and windy and tonight was no exception. He considered going back, but the part of him that was cold was overruled by the part of him that didn’t want to admit to Anael that he hadn’t thought his decision through before walking out of the tent. She’d laugh at him.

Benny Lafitte was under a light guard. He wasn’t actually locked up or anything, but Castiel had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to do as ordered and stay where the soldiers could see him. The man hadn’t offered any form of protest and Castiel had yet to decide if that made him more or less trustworthy.

Every time Castiel went to see Benjamin Lafitte he half expected to find that the man had managed to get a horse and escape, but the Purgavain was still right where Castiel had left him when they’d stopped for the night. The guard who’d been watching him assured Castiel that he hadn’t caused any trouble, and had even helped cook dinner.

Castiel made a mental note to tell the soldiers not to allow potential enemies near the food.

“Mr. Lafitte.”

The man looked up, seemingly unconcerned. “I keep telling you, your highness, call me Benny. ‘Mr. Lafitte’ makes me feel like my old man.”

Castiel didn’t really care who it made him feel like, but arguing over names wasn’t really on his list of things to do that night. “Benny.”

“How’s your brother?” Benny asked before Castiel had a chance to say anything else. He sounded genuinely concerned.

“He’s better. Woke up today.” He watched Benny’s face carefully to see if there was any fear of being caught in a lie there, but the man actually seemed to light up a little at the news.

“Did he? That’s good. I was starting to worry I hadn’t gotten him out of that place fast enough.”

Which reminded Castiel of the question he’d been meaning to ask since they’d met but kept getting distracted from. “Why did it take you so long? Did it take your conscience a whole month to decide you weren’t okay with a kid being tortured in front of you? Or just that long to decide you weren’t having fun anymore and maybe we’d offer more money?” He looked down and his hands were shaking, clenched into tight fists.

Benny shot to his feet, anger in his face for the first time, and Castiel’s hand moved to the sword on his hip. “Sit back down.”

Benny froze, eyes going to the weapon, and he slowly returned to his seat.

“I wasn’t there before.”

“What?”

“The building they were keeping him in. It was some abandoned church that was never finished, I think. I wasn’t there before.” Benny sighed, running his hands over his beard. “I’ve been down on my luck the last few years. My fiancé died, my shop burned down… I lost everything. I’ve been traveling all over the country ever since, doing odd jobs when I can. Someone approached me a little over a week ago, said they wanted me for a guard job.”

Castiel could understand the logic in that, Benny was a big guy. He undoubtedly knew how to use the battle-axe he’d been wearing when they met him. “The guard job being Samandriel?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. I was supposed to make sure he didn’t get away - not that he could have, shape he was in - and make sure no one came investigating. I took the job without thinking much of it, I just knew guard job and that could mean a lot of things. And the money was good. But then I get there, and they’ve got this kid - Samandriel - tied to a chair, and they’re- Trust me, you don’t want me to tell you what they were doing to him.”

Castiel almost challenged that, but swallowed the words back down. Benny was probably right.

“Anyway,” Benny was saying, “I couldn’t- It didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be doing the torturing. I didn’t even have to watch, just stand outside and stand guard.” He shook his head, looking as though he might be sick. “But there was no way I was going to let them keep torturing this poor kid.”

“Did you know who he was?”

“No, they didn’t tell me. Probably afraid they’d lose people who wanted reward money.” He gestured towards Samandriel’s tent. “ _He_ told me. I wasn’t sure if it was true or not; he was so out of it and obviously in pain. But he just kept saying that he wanted to go home, would I please take him home. And even if he was delusional about the whole prince thing I could tell by his accent that he was from Edengar. So…” He shrugged.

“So you thought you’d just bring a beaten and bloody man across the border and hope for the best?”

Benny grinned a little bitterly. “Never said I was smart. Besides, I got the impression that someone pretty high on the food chain was calling the shots on all this. Probably can’t show my face in Purgavai again anyway.”

It was a pretty impressive story, Castiel thought, provided it was true. It would take a lot of nerve to risk being exiled or even killed for the sake of a man you didn’t know and who may or not live much longer. Castiel wasn’t sure if he should believe it, but he didn’t _feel_ like Benny was lying. He gave a curt nod. “Well, I suppose we owe you our thanks then.”

“Just trying to be a decent human being.” Benny seemed to consider something.

“What is it?”

“Do you think I could talk to him? When he’s doing a bit better, I mean. It’s just that, you know, the only time I’ve seen him is beaten and bloody and out of his mind with pain.”

Castiel could understand not wanting that to be the only memory of someone. “I’ll ask him if he wants to see you. No promises.”

“Good enough for me.”

“Good. And Benny?”

“Yeah?”

“If he tells me that you’re lying, that you were one of the people hurting him, I will not hesitate to tear you limb from limb.”

Benny nodded respectfully, but no trace of worry crossed his face. Castiel thought that was probably the most compelling evidence in favor of Benny’s story. A guilty man would worry about being caught. Only a man with nothing to hide could possibly be so calm in the midst of enemy territory.

* * *

 

Samandriel appreciated that Castiel and Anael made sure that one of them was always with him so he didn’t have to wake up alone. What he _didn’t_ appreciate what his inability to so much as fidget without them panicking and rushing over, asking if he was okay and offering to do whatever it was he was trying to do. All he wanted was to see whether or not he could sit up without help. Move his fingers a little. Pick up his own damn cup when he wanted water. Make sure there hadn’t been any permanent damage.

For now he was lying on his back, staring at the tent ceiling, contemplating counting the number of stitches in the fabric to stave off boredom. He’d first woken up three days ago, and no longer felt nearly as exhausted as he had before. More often than not his falling asleep was a product of boredom as much as a need for rest. Anael was sitting next to him, reading a book. Samandriel wished she’d at least read it aloud, give him something to do.

The tent flap opened and Castiel entered, looking irritated. “Anael, would you _please_ come make the horses behave before the soldiers start losing their minds and killing the animals?”

She looked up from her book and blinked at him. “What?”

“The horses. One of them got spooked by a rabbit and now they’re all refusing to settle back down. People are trying to sleep.”

Anael rolled her eyes, shut her book, set it down, and stood up. “Oh, all right. You’ll stay with Samandriel?”

“I don’t need to be watched every second,” Samandriel broke in. “I’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

His brother and sister looked unconvinced, but Castiel must have been expected elsewhere because he seemed to be considering it.

“Or,” Samandriel offered, “you could send Benny in. You keep saying you want me to talk to him and see if I remember anything else about how I got out.”

Castiel and Anael both frowned. “I don’t know if I want to leave you alone with him,” Castiel said.

Samandriel rolled his eyes. “You think he’s going to murder me in the middle of our camp, while surrounded by our soldiers, with no weapon, no horse, and no way to escape? Even if he does want me dead, I imagine he’s smarter than that.”

Even Anael, who seemed bound and determined to not trust the man who’d appeared to have saved Samandriel from his captors, couldn't find an effective argument against that.

Castiel sighed with resignation and nodded. “I’ll go get him.”

“I’ll see to the horses.” Anael looked back at Samandriel. “I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

He nodded, appreciating the sentiment but not feeling terrifically concerned.

Benny entered the tent a minute later, looking at Samandriel and giving him a light smile before taking a seat next to him. “You’re looking better.”

“Better than I looked while bleeding out and suffering the effects of being tied up for a month straight? I’m glad.” He’d been making a lot of comments like that since waking up. One of the soldiers had said he’d finally picked up a soldier’s sense of humor. Castiel and Anael didn’t appreciate it.

Benny didn’t seem to mind so much though, his mouth quirking up just a little. “Well, maybe blood is a good look on you. I don’t know.”

Samandriel felt himself laugh for the first time in over a month. It hurt his throat, which was still recovering from his screaming, but it felt good nonetheless.

“I wanted to thank you, by the way," he said after a minute. "If you hadn’t gotten me out of there…” His throat constricted and he had to stop talking. He didn’t like thinking about the fact that Castiel almost certainly wouldn’t have found him if it weren’t for Benny.

One of Benny’s hands brushed against Samandriel’s arm and there was concern in the Purgavain's eyes. He didn’t ask him to elaborate though, which Samandriel appreciated. “You don’t have to thank me. I just wish I’d gotten the job offer earlier, gotten you out of there before it got so bad.”

He sounded so sincere that any doubts Samandriel had possessed before were gone. Even with his fuzzy memories he was certain that Benny had to be telling the truth. “Still. Thank you.”

“You really don’t remember me getting you out of there?”

Samandriel shook his head and started straining to sit up.

“Are you supposed to be sitting up yet?”

Samandriel gave him a glare telling him to mind his own business. “I’m tired of lying down. I’ve done nothing but lie down for days. And before that I was constantly sitting.”

“Well, don’t start trying to walk,” Benny said, reaching out to help him move without jarring his leg. “A broken leg is a broken leg.”

“I know. It’s the reason I can’t ride a horse and have to be carried everywhere while we’re moving.”

“Well, going by how much pain you seemed to be in on _my_ horse, I think that’s smart.”

“I remember that. Being in pain on a horse. You were holding me onto it, weren’t you?”

Benny nodded. “You couldn’t hold yourself on, and I was doing my best to put you in a position that was as un-painful as possible.”

Samandriel nodded slowly, remembering the warmth of the horse underneath him, of arms around him, and a solid torso at his back. “And you were talking. I wasn’t coherent enough to tell what you were saying, but you were talking.”

“I wasn’t saying much. Just making noise, hoping it might help you feel less threatened. You’d been through hell, and I thought you were delusional, so I didn’t want to add to the pressure.”

Samandriel gave him a sharp look. “You thought I was delusional.”

“You told me you were a prince of Edengar.”

“I _am_ a prince of Edengar.”

“I didn’t know that, did I? I thought you were just delirious from the pain and the blood loss. You also told me I smelled like a fish that had been… let’s see, how did you put this - ‘left in a field after being dragged through a pasture'."

“Do you?”

“That depends, what does a fish that has been left in a field after being dragged through a pasture smell like?”

“I have no idea.”

“Me neither.”

They looked at each other and started laughing. Samandriel was cut off abruptly by a stabbing pain in his side, causing him to double over and clutch as his ribs.

One of Benny’s hands was suddenly on his shoulder, speaking in the same calming voice Samandriel dimly remembered from before. “Take it easy. Just breathe. It’s all right, little bird, just breathe, you’ll be all right. You’re okay.”

Samandriel took a few deep and calming breaths and gingerly sat back up again. “Okay. I’m all right.” He raised an eyebrow at Benny. “Little bird?”

Benny shrugged. “It’s what came to mind. And it seemed to help.”

Samandriel breathed out another slow breath. “It did. Thank you. I’m not sure what that was, but it wasn’t fun. Would you hand me some water?”

“Of course.” Benny handed him a cup and Samandriel was pleased to not have his siblings around so he could actually pick up the cup and drink the water by himself. Having them do all the work was getting old really fast.

He reached out for the cup, took it from Benny, moved one hand from the bottom to grip the handle, and immediately dropped it with a hiss of pain.

Benny jumped as the cup hit the ground. “Samandriel? Are you all right?”

Samandriel barely heard him, staring at the hand that had failed to grab the cup properly. He slowly forced it into a fist. He didn’t even get his fingers halfway clenched before a sharp shoot of pain went down his arm in protest and he released the tension. He turned to his other hand and repeated the process, with the same result. He looked up at Benny, distraught.

“Samandriel?”

“I can’t… I can’t make a fist anymore. I can’t…” His breathing started to speed up and get progessively more labored. “I can’t use my hands anymore!” He heard his voice squeak as he said the words, but he couldn’t make himself be embarrassed about it. “I can’t-”

“ _Samandriel.”_ Benny’s voice was harsh, impossible to ignore, but there was a reassuring note to it too. _“Just breathe.”_

He started to gasp, screwing his eyes shut and willing himself to wake up and find out that being rendered essentially useless was just a bad dream.

A large hand clamped down on the back of his neck. “Deep breaths, Samandriel. You’ll be all right. You’ll be all right, little bird. You’ll get through this. You’ll be all right.”

Samandriel didn’t know how long Benny stayed crouched beside him like that, repeating reassuring things over and over again in his calm voice, with an accent that was surprisingly comforting despite being the same one that most of his captors had had while they tortured him.

However long it was, it was long enough for Anael to return from calming down the horses, see Benny crouched over Samandriel - who was apparently having trouble breathing - and completely lose her mind.

“Get the fuck away from him!”

Samandriel heard her shout, but it took him a moment to fully process it, and by then she’d tackled Benny away from him, causing him to nearly fall over. He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning on Benny through the panic until the man’s support was suddenly gone.

He could see the two of them, Anael pinning Benny to the ground with a knife Samandriel hadn’t known she had pointed at his throat. Benny was lying perfectly still, palms out.

“Anael!” The name got tangled on its way out, his breathing still uneven, but it made her look up. “Let him go, he didn’t do anything.”

She hesitated, looking between Samandriel and Benny uncertainly. Benny continued to not move. “Then what happened?”

“I-” Samandriel looked down at his hands and found himself unable to finish. He could feel himself shaking and harshly told himself to stop. It didn’t help.

“Samandriel?” Concern overrunning her anger, Anael released Benny and came closer, putting a hand on Samandriel’s shoulder. “Hey! Samandriel?” She looked over her shoulder at Benny, who was cautiously sitting up. “Do you know what happened?”

“He-” Benny cut off and Samandriel looked over at him, surprised to find Benny looking back. _He’s asking if it’s all right for him to say what happened_ , he thought, and was stunned at the revelation. He nodded.

Benny looked back at Anael, who was looking between them with suspicion. “He tried to pick something up and… I guess there’s more damage to his hands than he thought.”

“I can’t make a fist,” Samandriel said in a distant tone, making a weak attempt of it again. It was surreal, and yet sickeningly all too real.

Anael took one of his hands gently, pushing up his sleeve and examining his hand and wrist. “They must have damaged some muscles while they had you.”

Samandriel jerked away. “Obviously.” It was a rude and immature reaction and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d thought he’d been handling everything that had happened to him well, but now he felt like a small child again, wanting to curl up with one of his siblings and have them tell him that was going to be all right. He lay back down, staring up at the top of the tent. Anael told Benny to go back to his guards and settled down to sit next to him without saying a word.

* * *

 

The first week or so after finding Samandriel really hadn’t been nearly as bad as Castiel would have predicted if asked.

The last week and a half was more than awful enough to make up for it. Samandriel, who had been sarcastic and obnoxious enough for Castiel to almost be able to pretend that nothing had happened, had retreated into a shell after discovering the sudden uselessness of his hands and was stubbornly refusing to be dragged out of it again. Castiel had never wished for his father more. He’d have been able to work out the best thing to say to make Samandriel feel better.

Castiel, on the other hand, was useless, and even Anael wasn’t faring much better. He gave monosyllabic answers when pressed and stayed silent the rest of the time, usually staring at his hands rather than looking at his siblings. He’d even stopped complaining about people doing things for him and his not being able to ride a horse. Gabriel had once said that the day Samandriel stopped complaining they would have to start planning his funeral. Castiel had laughed at the time, but it wasn’t funny anymore.

They were almost to the castle now, could see it looming ahead of them, and Castiel felt guilty relief at the thought that he wouldn’t have to spend quite so much time wondering what to do with Samandriel. And he could see Dean again. Maybe Dean had some experience that would let him offer Castiel some advice.

Their brothers were waiting on the castle steps when they arrived. Balthazar looked ecstatic, leaping down to greet them all enthusiastically, not missing a beat when Samandriel only gave him a weak nod in response. Castiel had sent a messenger ahead to tell the three of them what to expect from Samandriel. Gabriel looked tired, but relieved. He was obviously still in trouble with Michael. Michael just looked kingly, as though it wasn’t his younger brother being carried into the castle because he couldn’t walk properly. Castiel was familiar enough with him to recognize the set to his features that meant he was boiling with anger inside. Pity to whoever caused it to leak out.

Castiel and Anael led Benny over to Michael, leaving stable hands to put their horses away.

“You’re the Purgavain who rescued my youngest brother?” Michael asked as way of greeting once they were in his meeting room. His head was tilted back so his chin was up and Castiel thought his crown seemed to fit him better than it had when they had left.

Benny nodded. “I am, your majesty.”

Michael looked to Castiel. “Samandriel says he’s telling the truth?”

“He doesn’t remember very much of being rescued, but what he does remember matches Lafitte’s story, yes.”

Michael didn’t look entirely satisfied. Castiel couldn’t blame him. “He says he’s not one of the people who tortured him?”

“He says he remembers a lot of them. Their voices, if nothing else. Lafitte isn’t one of them.”

Michael’s frown deepened and Castiel was startled to find himself wondering if Michael had been hoping for an excuse to execute someone.

“Have someone find him a room for now. I’ll decide exactly what to do with him later.” He fixed Benny with a hard stare. “Is that acceptable?”

Castiel wasn’t sure if Benny actually found it acceptable or simply knew better than to argue with someone with that tone to their voice, but Benny nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Good. And I don’t want you leaving the castle. If you need to go somewhere you find a guard and you ask them. Do as they say. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Anael?”

Anael gestured for Benny to follow her, face taught, and they both exited the room. As soon as they were gone Michael slumped into a chair with a heavy sigh. “Samandriel didn’t look well.”

“He seemed to be recovering until he realized he could no longer use his hands for anything that involved making a fist. He’s been sullen and withdrawn ever since.”

Michael nodded, fingers running idly over the grooves in the table. “I’ll speak with him. See what he can tell me about his captors and their motives. Pamela has already been sent to him, I’ll go after she reports back.”

Castiel nodded. He wasn’t sure that forcing Samandriel to talk about what had happened would be the best thing, but he had no argument to offer that Michael would listen to. “Do you have any ideas about Lafitte?”

“I don’t want to send him back to Purgavai. Either he’s a very talented liar and is therefore a criminal who deserves to be locked up, or else his story is true and he can’t safely return home anyway. Whichever is true the best course of action is to keep him here.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Perhaps Samandriel has an idea of what to do with him. He’s his rescuer, after all.”

Castiel nodded again. “Then, with your permission, I think I would like to get some rest. I don’t much enjoy being on the road for a long time.”

Michael’s mouth moved in what might have once been a smile, and waved him off. Castiel left, feeling bone-tired and desperately wanting to pay Dean a visit.

* * *

 

Samandriel didn’t look so much _hurt_ when Michael walked in, so much as he looked worn out. Like he might decide to fall asleep and stay that way because fighting the urge to do so was exhausting. He didn’t even turn his head when Michael entered, just flicked his eyes towards the door.

“How are you feeling?”

“All right, I guess.”

Michael nodded, searching for something else to say. Comforting his siblings had never been a skill of his, and as much as he wanted to know who had done this to his brother he didn’t think demanding it out of him would work out very well. “What’s your opinion on Benjamin Lafitte?” he asked instead.

“Benny? I haven’t really talked to him much, but he’s alright. He rescued me, which I appreciate, and he helped me out when I started to panic after realizing…” He trailed off and looked down at his hands. The ones that had been rendered virtually useless. “I can’t fight anymore,” Samandriel said, sounding as though it was a realization he had only just reached.

“No, I guess not.”

Samandriel made a sound that Michael had never heard anyone make before. It sounded desperate and lost and not at all like a noise his little brother would make. Not Samandriel, who had been proudly taking care of himself since he could walk without help and rolled his eyes when servants scrambled to do things for him. Never Samandriel.

Except that it _was_ Samandriel, and now Michael needed to do something. “I don’t think you should be left alone now. You can’t defend yourself and until I know more I have no way of knowing this sort of thing isn’t going to happen again.”

Samandriel pushed himself up on his elbows, looking at Michael in horror. “You want to give me a _bodyguard?_ ”

Well, at least his _brain_ hadn't been affected. “Yes. I’ll let you have a say in who it is, but we don’t have to talk about it right now. Just something for you to think about.”

Samandriel huffed angrily and lay back down. “Fine. We’ll talk about it later.”

There was going to be an argument during that talk, Michael could tell. “Do you know who took you?”

Samandriel looked over at him, eyes pleading him not to make him talk about it yet, but Michael was unmoved. He needed to know.

“Samandriel. Do you know who was responsible?”

“I don’t know who ordered it, no. But I recognized one of them. He was only there sometimes, mostly at the beginning.” Michael saw Samandriel bite his lip nervously. His face was paler than it had been a minute ago. Michael didn’t stop him talking. “I don’t know if it was his idea or if he had orders, but he was in charge of everyone there.”

“Who was it?”

Samandriel acted like he hadn’t heard him, staring blankly at the wall. “Almost everyone had Purgavain accents, except for him.”

“ _Who?_ ”

“We know him. God, I never liked the guy, but I never thought he’d…” Another rough swallow and Samandriel closed his eyes for a minute, breathing heavily.

“Samandriel, _who was it?_ ”

A long breath in preparation. “The Hellacian ambassador to us. Crowley.”

The declaration of war was out to the rulers of Purgavai and Hellacia by morning.


	6. I Have To Keep You Safe

Pamela had assured him that he would be able to start walking on his injured leg within another week or two but Samandriel wasn’t finding that very comforting at the moment. Being able to walk didn’t make him feel any better about having his one real talent - being a soldier - taken away from him. What was he supposed to do now?

Have a guard follow him around like he was a helpless child, apparently. That’s what Michael wanted, anyway. As though Crowley or one of his minions would walk right into the castle and attack him right under everyone’s nose. He was safe enough in the castle. Nothing was going to happen. 

 _You didn’t think anything would happen during your patrol either,_ an unfriendly voice in his head reminded him. Samandriel pushed it away. The patrol was different, he assured himself. It had only gone wrong because they hadn’t been properly warned. Nothing like that could happen inside the castle walls.

Samandriel sighed, gingerly moving his broken right leg so he could sit up on the side of the bed. He didn’t want to become a recluse, stuck under a self-imposed restriction to stay inside the castle, where it was safe. He didn’t really want to leave it either. And he didn’t want a bodyguard.

He wanted Crowley and whoever else was involved with what had happened to him dead. Maybe he’d talk to Benny later, ask him how many of them he’d killed in the fight that had to have preceded Benny taking Samandriel away from the cold stone building that he’d been kept in. Benny might end up thinking he was a morbid and sadistic bastard but it might make Samandriel feel better. Why should he care what a Purgavain exile thought about him?

Someone knocked on the door and Samandriel spared a moment to ponder on how strange it was that people seemed much less likely to simply barge in now that Samandriel wasn’t capable of getting up to open the door. He wondered if he could hold onto things well enough to turn the doorknob anyway.

He decided to hold off on finding out for awhile.

“Come in,” he called, not caring who it was. There were guards in the hallway, no one was going to turn up that wasn’t supposed to be there. Michael had probably put extra guards out there too, just for him.

It was Gabriel who opened the door, looking withdrawn and shifty. It was a strange expression on him. Castiel had told him about Gabriel’s involvement with Kali and Samandriel was observant enough to notice that Michael’s ensuing anger hadn’t died down.

“How are you feeling?” Gabriel asked as an awkward conversation starter. He hadn’t come to see Samandriel since he’d gotten back; they’d only seen glimpses of each other in the hallways.

Samandriel shrugged, reaching down to scratch around his bandages. Pamela claimed that it was a good thing that the injuries were itching and it meant they were healing, but Samandriel wished he could just skip that particular step of recovery. “I’m better than I was.” Not that it was likely that he could possibly be worse than he had been and still be breathing.

“Good,” Gabriel said, nodding and looking anywhere but at his little brother. “That’s good.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his light hair, tangling it up at the ends. Samandriel had never seen his hair mussed like that before.

Gabriel looked at him at last, eyes a little wider than would be strictly normal and his face much paler than Samandriel was accustomed to. “I didn’t tell Kali anything, Samandriel. I _swear._ ”

His voice was desperate and pleading, breaking over the words and Samandriel swallowed over a suddenly painful lump in his throat. He hadn’t spared much thought to whether or not Gabriel was truly responsible when Castiel had told him, preoccupied by his own problems and bad memories. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me,” Samandriel said at last, hoping Gabriel would let him leave it at that and they could stop talking about it.

Gabriel shook his head. “No. I don’t mean I just didn’t tell her anything I shouldn’t have, I didn’t tell her _anything_. I don’t know who was involved in… in what happened, and, as much as I want to, I can’t promise that Kali didn’t have anything to do with it, but any information anyone got they didn’t get from me. I swear.”

It was somehow much harder to believe that Gabriel had said nothing at all than it was to believe he simply hadn’t meant to. Maybe a part of Samandriel wanted to blame him. It’d probably be easier than blaming someone who was miles and miles away and practically untouchable.

Gabriel was standing in front of him, however, eyes pleading Samandriel to believe him, to not give him the same look Michael had been shooting his way for weeks now.

Samandriel nodded. “I believe you. It’s not like it was some big secret that I was taking a patrol to the border. Anyone could have told… whoever it was they told.” A thought occurred to him then and he tilted his head, looking up at Gabriel, wondering what his brother would say about his new theory. “Or maybe the border skirmishes were the plan all along. Cause enough fighting, one of us was bound to go investigate sooner or later.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Who wants to know about our military defenses that badly?”

“Maybe Lucifer wasn’t the only one who wanted a war.”

* * *

 

“Samandriel, you can either be cooperative and get a say in who your bodyguard is or you can continue to be a childish brat and I can assign you someone who isn’t going to let you get out of bed in the morning. Your choice.”

Samandriel crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his older brother. “I don’t need a bodyguard, Michael. I can’t hold a sword, I can only hold reins in a loose grip, and I’m still walking with a heavy limp. What exactly is it you think I’m going to be doing that I’ll need a bodyguard for?”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Samandriel. You’re getting a bodyguard whether you like it or not. The only thing you have any say in is who it is and you’re about to lose that too.”

“Fine,” Samandriel relented sulkily, purely because he knew Michael wasn’t going to give up on this no matter what argument he was presented with. It wasn’t in his nature. “I don’t want one of my soldiers.”

“Really? I thought one of them would be your first choice.”

“I’m not going to be followed around by someone I used to train with. Nothing about that sounds pleasant.”

“All right. Who do you want?”

“I don’t know. There’s plenty of people I _don’t_ want, but…” Samandriel shrugged. “As long as they’re not insisting on coddling me you could give me Lafitte for all I care.” It had seemed very important just a minute ago that he have a say in who his bodyguard was; now it seemed like a moot point. What did it matter? Whoever it was, Samandriel would be just as helpless.

Michael was looking at him thoughtfully. “That isn’t a bad idea.”

“What?”

“Having Lafitte be your bodyguard. You can keep an eye on each other. He’s already proven he’s a good fighter, and, provided he isn’t lying, will risk his life to help you. Keeps him here, keeps you safe, doesn’t cost me any men.” He nodded to himself. “I think that will work out very well.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“You said you didn’t care,” Michael said, standing up and making to leave. His tone said that the conversation was over and his mind made up.

“Michael!”

“Decision has been made, Samandriel. Would you like to tell him, or me?”

Samandriel glared at him, considering making Michael tell him to be difficult, but decided that wouldn’t be fair to Benny. “I’ll tell him.”

“Good. I expect to see you in each other’s company from here on out.” Michael turned on his heel and strode away before Samandriel could say anything.

The prince huffed and burrowed himself into his chair, scowling. At least they’d had this meeting in his room so he didn’t have to leave before he was good and ready to. He knew he was pouting, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d earned a little pouting.

He couldn’t sit in his room and sulk forever though, however nice it sounded sometimes, so he eventually pushed himself onto his feet, setting his right leg on the ground gently, testing how much weight it was willing to hold up.

He limped his way out of the room and into the hall. He considered going to get Benny himself, but his leg was aching already and he hadn’t even started traveling. He called over the nearest guard instead. “Tell Benjamin Lafitte to come here, would you?” The man nodded and turned to go. “Tell him to just come in when he gets here.”

He shut his door behind him and collapsed back into his chair, rubbing his leg. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard a polite knock on the door for formality’s sake and then the click of it being opened.

“Hi, Benny,” Samandriel greeted, not bothering to force a smile the way he did whenever his siblings visited. It was refreshing. “How have you been?”

Benny shrugged. “My head’s still attached so I don’t think I get to complain much. Not the most exciting thing, sitting inside a guarded room all day, but there’s worse things.”

Samandriel wondered if Benny was really as laid back as he sounded or if he just thought it would be wise to not complain about his situation. The latter seemed more likely, but he hoped it was the former. He didn’t like the idea of being followed around by someone who hated his situation.

“What did you need me for?” Benny asked, getting to the point.

Samandriel sighed. “Michael thinks I need a bodyguard and he has decided that you’re currently the best option.”

Benny blinked at him, confusion slipping over his features. “The king wants me to be your bodyguard?” He sounded like he thought Samandriel was playing a joke on him for some inexplicable reason.

Samandriel nodded. “He says you would be the most logical choice, because it wouldn’t lose him any soldiers and he could keep an eye on you.”

“What do you think?”

Benny’s apparent sincerity caught Samandriel a little off guard. “How nice of you to ask. Michael just sort of ordered it.”

“Didn’t give you any say?”

“Not much of one. Michael isn’t big on listening to the opinions of others once he’s made up his mind about something.”

Benny nodded in understanding - real or faked Samandriel didn’t know - and gestured towards another chair, silently asking permission to use it.

“Go ahead,” Samandriel told him. “If you’re going to have to follow me around for the next who-knows-how-long I’m not going to force you to stand all the time.” He pointed to a door on one side of his room that led into a servant’s room that hadn’t been used since Samandriel was old enough to dress himself. “That’s where you’ll be staying. If you need anything just let me know. And you can go to the blacksmith to get a weapon. It’s fine if you need one made. One of the guards can show you where it is. I’d go with you, but…” He gestured to his leg.

“Still hurting?”

“I can limp around now, but I’ve done enough of that for one day.” Now he got to spend the rest of the day sitting around and staring at the walls in boredom.

Benny nodded and stood up again. “I’ll go there now then. I’ll be back soon.”

“No rush. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. You don’t have to wait for my permission to come in, although I would appreciate you announcing yourself.”

“Of course.” Benny left the room and Samandriel leaned back, idly wondering how willing Benny would be to go on pointless horse rides with him once his leg was better.

* * *

 

Dean had been hesitant about the Purgavain who walked into his smithy asking about battle-axes for approximately five minutes before deciding that the man made for excellent company.

“So, Prince Samandriel’s bodyguard? How do you feel about that?” Dean asked as he sharpened the axe blade.

Benny shrugged nonchalantly. “There’s worse people to be stuck with.”

Dean laughed. “That’s for sure. Prince Samandriel’s a pretty down to earth guy. Although I can’t imagine he’s taking not being able to fight very well.”

“Can you blame him? From what I hear it used to be his life. Now he can barely leave his own bedroom without help.”

“He’s always been really independent too,” Dean agreed. “Not the type to use servants for much.”

“They all seem a bit…” Benny seemed to consider his words carefully. “Different, I suppose. From what I’d expect from royalty.”

Dean nodded. “King Michael has always been very duty-bound and regal and Princess Anael fits the part of princess as far as I can tell. The rest of them though…” He shook his head with a chuckle. “There are times I’m amazed that some of them could possibly be nobility.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Benny asked suddenly. “Your accent isn’t Edengardian.”

Dean shook his head. “Moved here about… I think it was six years ago? My brother Sam and I are from Humaear originally. Got lucky one day and met the old blacksmith while he was there on business. Offered me a job as his apprentice. The two of us moved here, Sam got a job as a clerk in the castle, and we’ve been here ever since.”

“You like it?”

 _More than you can know_ , Dean thought. It occurred to him that Benny was probably asking because he had very suddenly left home and was now stuck in a strange country, working for a strange prince. “I do,” he replied honestly. “I’ve been homesick on occasion, but there really wasn’t anything there for either of us by the time we left.”

“No family?”

“Not anymore. Mother died when we were young, father drank himself to death… You?”

“Not anymore.” Benny left it at that. Something about how he said it told Dean that he’d give up more if pressed, but would prefer if Dean didn’t press. So he didn’t.

“Here’s your axe,” he said instead, handing it over.

Benny took it with a smile. “Suppose I’d best get to work then.”

“King Michael probably wouldn’t be thrilled if you put it off. But feel free to come by and keep me company. Gets lonely in here sometimes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Benny left and couldn’t have gotten even to the end of the hallway outside before Castiel entered and shut the door firmly behind him.

“Wow, Cas,” Dean drawled, “that’s awfully forward of you. It’s not even dinner time yet.”

Castiel glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. “Were you and Benny getting along?”

“We were.” He grinned mischievously, stepping up so he was only a few inches from Castiel’s face. “Are you jealous?”

Cas scowled. “ _No._ And that’s not the point.”

Dean stepped back, still smiling. “So what is the point?”

 _“Samandriel._ Do you think he’s safe with Benny around?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know, Dean. That’s why I’m asking you. You are generally a good judge of character.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “Seems nice enough. Doesn’t seem the type to plot an assassination.”

“I’m serious, Dean!”

“So am I!” He relented at Castiel’s dubious look. “Okay, so maybe I’m not entirely serious. But, come on, if I thought he was a danger to you or your family do you think I’d keep that from you? Hell, do you think he’d have made it out of this room?”

Cas sighed. “I suppose not. I'm worried, Dean. Samandriel isn’t dealing with his experience very well. He claims to be, but he’s not. And if Benny proves to be lying Samandriel could get hurt again. Or worse.”

“I don’t think Benny’s lying, Cas. And even if he were, he wouldn’t dare hurt Samandriel right in the middle of the capitol city of Edengar. If he’s lying then he’s smarter than that.”

Cas gave a reluctant nod, not seeming at all reassured. “I suppose that makes sense. It’s just-”

“He’s your little brother, I get it. I wouldn’t trust a stranger around Sam after something like that no matter how upstanding he seemed. It makes sense for you to be suspicious.”

Cas nodded again, more confidently this time, and stepped closer to Dean, who was only too happy to put his arms around him and pull him close. He kissed Castiel’s hair, gently. “It’s going to be okay, Cas. Somehow, I promise, everything will be all right.”

Cas just tightened his grip. “I hope so. Everything has been so difficult the last few months. Lucifer, our father, Samandriel, and now Michael has declared war on Purgavai and Hellacia without making sure that Humaear will assist us.” His forehead came to rest against Dean’s shoulder. “I wish things could go back to how they were before.”

Dean said nothing, just began to rub reassuring circles into Castiel’s back.

The door opened again and the two of them sprang apart, immediately doing their best to pretend they had been having a perfectly normal conversation that had absolutely no touching involved in it whatsoever.

Just their luck, the man who entered the smithy was King Michael himself, the one person who would consider it very much his business what they were doing as well as being furious about it if he ever found out. Dean saw Castiel fidget nervously out of the corner of his eye.

“King Michael,” he said, nodding his head respectfully, hoping to keep the King from suspecting anything or asking awkward questions. “How can I help you?”

The man looked between him and Cas with narrowed eyes but said nothing. “Have you met Benjamin Lafitte yet?”

Dean nodded. “Yes, your majesty. He actually left here just a few minutes ago. Prince Samandriel had sent him to get a weapon.”

“What did you give him?”

“A one-handed battle-axe, sire.”

“That’s what he was using when we first met him,” Castiel offered, apparently unwilling to stand awkwardly on the sidelines of the conversation. Dean could pinpoint the exact moment he reconsidered drawing attention to himself. “I - I came in to…”

“To have a dent in his armor fixed,” Dean finished, inwardly wincing at the look he received from the king, who was undoubtedly wondering why Castiel had been unable to finish his sentence himself.

“All right,” Michael said slowly. “I don’t want you giving Lafitte any other weapons without express permission from Prince Samandriel or myself. Is that clear?”

Dean nodded. “Perfectly clear, your majesty.”

The king nodded once, satisfied, and turned to Castiel. “I’d like to talk with you about Humaear. Ambassador Kevin is waiting in my meeting room.”

Castiel nodded and followed his brother out of the smithy.

* * *

 

Within approximately thirty minutes of Benny returning with an axe in one hand Samandriel had decided that having a bodyguard was an extremely uncomfortable experience. Samandriel had spent most of his time since getting back to the castle sitting about and staring at his ceiling, but there was something supremely awkward about doing that with somebody watching.

And it wasn’t as though Benny had anything else to do, unless he wanted to go into his room, and then they could awkwardly sit about doing nothing without being able to see each other.

Samandriel sighed, fidgeting a little. “Do you - I don’t know, want to go get some books or something?”

Benny smirked. “Bored?”

“I usually spend most of my time in the training yard.” Samandriel looked towards the window, though he was too far away to look down on the soldiers he knew were out there. “Or, you know, I used to.”

Benny stood up and went to look out the window himself. “Never been much for fighting myself.”

“Really?” Samandriel found that hard to believe, looking up and down Benny’s muscular frame and at the axe that fit in Benny’s hand as though he’d been born with it there.

Benny turned his head to look at him with a thin smile painted on his face. “Being good at something isn’t always the same as liking to do it.”

“What do you like to do then?”

Benny let out a sad sigh and his eyes looked off at something that wasn’t there. “Used to have a fiancé and a bakery. Wasn’t real big or anything, but it got us enough money. And I liked it. My father had always wanted me to join the army, taught me to fight. I was going to, but then I met Andrea.” A nostalgic smile had appeared and Samandriel regretted his next question before he even asked it.

“What happened?”

“Don’t know for sure. I went out to visit a friend, came home, and… Andrea was dead. Shop was burned to the ground.” He shrugged, trying to pretend it hurt less than it did. “Been wandering aimlessly around Purgavai ever since.”

Until he’d found Samandriel beaten half to death in a never completed stone building. Samandriel shuddered at the blurs of memories he had of the place.

“You all right, little bird?”

Samandriel looked up at the repeat of the term. “You’re still calling me that?”

Benny said nothing in response, but his expression just dared Samandriel to protest it.

Samandriel rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. You’re the one telling the heartbreaking story.”

“Happened a few years ago. I’ve learned to deal with it. You only went through hell a few weeks ago.”

“Don’t remind me.” It came out as an order and, though it hadn’t been intentional, Samandriel didn’t regret the tone. He didn’t want to talk about it. With anyone.

“If you say so. You said something about books?”

Samandriel had almost forgotten. “I did, didn’t I?” He pushed himself out of his chair, ordering Benny to back off with a glare when the man moved as though to help him. “Let’s go to the library then.”

They left the room at a slow pace, Samandriel doing everything in his power to keep his head up and shoulders straight despite the limp. It was improving again, but he didn’t know how long that would last. The pain seemed to rush back without any sort of reason to it. Benny, to his credit, didn’t try to help him again.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to pick up a few texts each, but Samandriel collapsed into a chair before they left. “Give me a minute,” he said, pressing his fist into his right leg in an attempt to loosen the muscle.

Benny nodded and didn’t offer to help him stand, apparently noting the ‘don’t-fucking-touch-me’ note to his tone.

“Is everything all right, your highness?” a different voice asked. Samandriel looked up to see a clerk at a worktable a few rows away, looking at him with concern. Sam, he thought his name was.

He nodded. “I’ll be fine, thank you for your concern.” He didn’t really feel terrifically grateful, but he didn’t want to talk to - well, to anyone. He’d put up with Benny, to keep Michael off his back, but that was it. At least Benny seemed to understand when Samandriel didn’t want to talk.

He groaned and stood up again a few minutes later. “Let’s go.”

He limped his way back to his room, Benny walking just half a step behind him.

* * *

 

Ambassador Kevin was relatively small and young for his position, but he made up for it by his absolute refusal to be intimidated by anyone. He and Crowley had nearly had a few serious altercations when they crossed paths while both in Edengar, which Castiel was now almost grateful for. It seemed to be making the war a more personal matter for the man.

“I don’t care about anyone’s personal feelings towards Queen Lilith or King Richard,” Michael was saying, which Castiel thought was a bit ironic. The declaration of war had come from personal feelings, after all. “I want to know whether or not Queen Charlotte is willing to help us.”

Ambassador Kevin didn’t look happy about having been interrupted or at Michael’s disrespectful tone, but he simply nodded. “She is willing. When I left she was already beginning to assemble her armies and sending them to Humaear’s border with Purgavai. The only thing she asks in return for our help is that you send us men when we need them, just as we will send men to you.”

“Of course,” Michael said, and a skeptical part of Castiel wondered if he really intended to use his own men to protect Humaear. Sometimes Castiel wasn’t convinced that Michael and Lucifer’s beliefs had truly been so different. Just their choices.

The two men, plus Commander Zachariah and Advisor Naomi, launched into a discussion of communication methods, how many men they needed, and where to send them, and Castiel slowly tuned them out.

There was no reason for him to be there that he could see. He was proficient enough when it came to strategizing, but no more so than Michael and Naomi, and certainly less than Zachariah. And they hadn’t even asked his opinion on anything. Mostly, he’d just sat next to Michael and observed.

And worried. Michael had very nearly walked in on him and Dean being considerably more intimate than Michael would ever consider appropriate and Cas had yet to be reassured that he hadn’t seen enough to be suspicious. The fact that he hadn’t said anything meant nothing, Michael was good at keeping things to himself until it suited him to mention it. He had once blackmailed Anael for three full years, threatening to tell their father that she sometimes liked to dress in commoner’s clothing and sneak out to the village alone, anytime the two of them disagreed. She had grown out of that, Castiel was fairly sure, but Michael hadn’t become any less shrewd.

After the Gabriel and Kali debacle, Castiel had only grown more convinced that Michael could never find out about him and Dean. At best, Dean would lose his job and be sent away; at worst the blacksmith would be executed and Castiel would end up in the same situation Gabriel was in now - not allowed to leave the castle and regarded with suspicion from virtually everyone.

The current heir to the throne was still slinking around guiltily, despite his insistence that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but was finally starting to buck under the pressure. Castiel was fairly certain that was the reason behind him being here, rather than Gabriel, who would make a great deal more sense.

The meeting ended at last, with a heavy implication that Michael’s day was far from over, but Castiel was allowed to leave and he made his escape before Michael could change his mind and call him back.

As much as he wanted to return to the smithy and visit Dean again, he didn’t dare. If Michael _had_ become suspicious upon walking in on the two of them earlier he would likely have somebody watching the smithy to confirm or deny those suspicions. He may even go himself. And Castiel was only too aware that he and Dean were not gifted when it came to lying while being questioned directly.

So instead he made his way through the corridors until he found himself standing at the door to Gabriel’s room. He sighed, and knocked.

“Come on in,” Gabriel called out at him, and Castiel let himself in.

“Hey there, little brother!” Gabriel said once he saw him, words sounding like something he would have said before Samandriel’s disappearance, but his goofy smile didn’t touch anything apart from his mouth.

Castiel nodded a greeting. “Hello, Gabriel.” He shut the door behind him and moved to sit in one of Gabriel’s many too-large chairs. “How have you been?”

Gabriel shrugged, going back to looking out the window as he had been before Castiel entered. “I’m all right.”

“That did not sound very convincing.”

The sigh Gabriel let out could have started a war all on its own, it was so full of anger. “I don’t want to talk about it, Castiel.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “You don’t want to talk about what?”

Gabriel looked over at him with an exasperated expression. “You’re a real pain in the ass sometimes, Castiel. You know that?” He ran his hands through his hair, coming over and taking a chair across from Castiel. “Are you doing something you’re not supposed to be doing with the blacksmith?”

Castiel lurched in his seat, going ramrod straight instantly. “Wh-what? No, of course not! What would we be doing?”

Gabriel raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t worry, your secrets safe with me. I like Dean, and I trust you not to go spilling court secrets to him.”

The words, despite being friendly, felt like barbs to Castiel. _I trust you even though you don’t trust me_ , they whispered in between syllables. He hung his head in shame. “How did you know?” he asked in a small voice.

“Kali mentioned seeing you visit there a lot. I suspected. And once I suspected it wasn’t very hard to confirm it.” He smiled at Castiel and it put a mischievous glint in his eyes this time. “You aren’t a very good liar, you know that?”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t know how you and Kali managed. At least no one pays attention to Dean.”

“Kali is a master of sneaking around and keeping secrets.”

“Like Samandriel?” He did his best to keep his tone neutral, not wanting to antagonize his brother, especially now that he knew the man knew his secret.

“I still don’t believe she had anything to do with it. Crowley was there, right? Doesn’t that mean Hellacia was probably in charge? There’s nothing to say that Kali knew anything, other than Michael’s paranoia and trust issues.”

“Careful. He is the king, in case you’d forgotten.”

“Trust me, I hadn’t.”

There was silence for a minute before Castiel asked, “Are you in love with Kali?”

The look Gabriel gave him was so bittersweet that Castiel’s heart dropped into his stomach. “I am. Not that it much matters now. I’ll be lucky to ever leave the castle again. Forget ever seeing her again. Not going to happen.”

How awful would that be, Castiel wondered, being forced away from the person you loved without even believing there was a good explanation for it? The idea of losing Dean in such a way made his stomach twist.

* * *

 

“What did you tell them?” Michael was shouting now, and Samandriel was flinching as he pressed himself as far back in his chair as it was possible to get.

Michael hadn’t asked him much about what had happened during his captivity, and when he had he’d been gentle about it, recognizing when Samandriel didn’t want to think about it and backing off. Tonight, though, something seemed to have set him off.

He’d come barging through the door, causing it to hit the wall with a crash loud enough to send Benny to his feet, one hand going to his axe before he realized who it was. Now Michael was shouting right in Samandriel’s face, demanding to know everything he’d told Crowley and the other men. Samandriel’s eyes had flickered over to Benny more than once, silently wishing for help but knowing there was nothing the man could do against the king.

“Samandriel! I need to know what they know and I need to know now! What did you tell them?”

“I don’t remember!” Samandriel pleaded for the third time that night. “I can’t even remember many of the questions they asked!” It was true, if Samandriel had talked it had been while he was too far out of it to know what was coming out of his mouth - much like with the fish comment he had apparently made to Benny.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about this, Samandriel,” Michael said, placing his hands on the armrests of Samandriel’s chair, penning him in. His voice had gone low and threatening, which was a hundred times more terrifying than his yell. “I need to know. What did you tell them?”

“I. Can’t. Remember.” Samandriel was doing his best to keep the quiver out of his voice, afraid Michael would take his fear as an indication of a lie. “I barely remember anything. If Crowley hadn’t been there at the very beginning I wouldn’t even remember _him_. I can’t remember what they asked, and I definitely can’t remember if I answered.” His heart was beating so fast he almost couldn’t hear himself speak over it.

Michael pushed away. “Damn it, Samandriel.” He turned his head so they were making direct eye contact that Samandriel didn’t dare break away from. “If I find out that you’re lying to me, there will be consequences.” He headed for the door. “If you _do_ happen to remember something, come tell me _immediately_.”

“Yes, sir,” Samandriel said a fraction of a second before the door slammed shut. His voice was quiet and he could feel himself beginning to shake. He hated the feeling. He’d never been afraid of Michael before, he’d always been confident that he could hold his own if he ever had to. Now he couldn’t.

“You all right?” Benny asked, hovering several feet away, concern on his face.

Samandriel buried his head in his hands in lieu of responding. Benny didn’t touch him, but Samandriel could sense him coming closer, stopping just an inch or two away and crouching down. “You can’t expect everything to go back to how it was before, little bird.” His voice was soft and reassuring and Samandriel wanted to scream at him to go away and leave him alone because he didn’t want anyone to see him being so weak.

There was a stretch of silence where Benny waited for a response and Samandriel refused to give him one, and then the older man sighed. “Prince Samandriel.”

Samandriel reluctantly looked up, feeling as though his head had gained several pounds. Benny never spoke to him so formerly, only referring to him as ‘your highness’ or ‘prince’ when they were somewhere where someone might overhear. Benny had been his bodyguard for approximately a week now, and Samandriel was finding that he enjoyed the older man’s company more than he was willing to admit.

Benny met his eyes. “You need to stop pretending that nothing is wrong. You’re hurting yourself.”

Samandriel let out a bitter laugh. “I think someone beat me to that, Benny.”

“You can move on from them. It’ll be hard as hell, no argument there, but you _can_. But not if you’re pretending that there’s nothing for you to move on from.” Hesitantly, Benny set one hand on his knee, tightening his grip just a little when Samandriel didn’t pull away. “You have to help yourself. No one else can do it for you.”

“What exactly are you expecting me to do?”

“To stop lying to yourself. And to stop telling yourself that you’re weak for having a hard time coping with being _tortured._ ”

Samandriel did pull away then, standing up and walking around, ignoring the twinge of protest in his leg. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been even a few days ago. “You’re telling me I’m _not_ being weak? You don’t see my siblings spending all day cowering in their rooms because they don’t want to talk to anyone. You don’t see them starting to shake because somebody said something they didn’t like. You don’t see them-”

“You don’t see them being tortured,” Benny interrupted. “Samandriel, I saw you in that church. Before your brother found us. You know I cleaned you up a bit in between? When I got you out of there you were drenched in blood. Your own blood, Samandriel. And you were still bleeding, but you were in such bad shape I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. One of your injuries on your arm went so deep that I could see your bones once I cleared the blood away. You were tortured. You’re not supposed to be okay.”

Samandriel, wanting Benny to be quiet already but not wanting to have to start yelling, threw himself down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow and telling Benny to go away. The words may have been too muffled for Benny to understand them, but he was confident that he got his point across.

Benny didn’t heed them, however. Samandriel felt the bed go down a little as Benny sat down beside him and he heard him sigh. “You’re one stubborn bastard, you know that?” It sounded almost affectionate.

“I’m a _prince!_ ” Samandriel told him. Belatedly, he realized it probably came across overly petulant since he was still speaking into the pillow.

Benny chuckled. “I know. But you’re still human, little bird.”

Samandriel shifted around so he was on his side and facing Benny. “Tell that to my brother.”

Benny looked towards the door the king had walked out of a few minutes prior. “Is he usually like that?”

“He convinced our father to banish our brother a few months ago,” Samandriel said for a reply.

“I heard that Edengar had a banished prince.”

They sat in a companionable silence, not moving, for a while longer.

“Benny?” Samandriel asked at last. “After your fiancé died and everything, did you… Did you have nightmares?”

Benny gave him a knowing look and nodded. “Still do, sometimes. I’ve even had them about you, once or twice.”

“Me?”

“You know how many times I thought maybe I was too late to help you? That I was going to have gone through all that but the only thing I’d be taking back to Edengar would be a bloody corpse?”

Samandriel swallowed hard and tightened in on himself. “Didn’t think about that.”

“I try not to.” One of Benny’s hands reached out. It stopped a few inches away as Benny silently asked permission. When Samandriel didn’t speak or move, just kept watching, he brought it lightly down onto Samandriel’s head, lightly brushing through his hair. “Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll be here if you need me.”

It was comforting, even though it came from a man Samandriel had known for a fairly short amount of time. He shut his eyes, falling asleep to the sensation of Benny’s fingers carding through his hair and the comfort of having another person so close.


	7. Snake in the Grass

Samandriel had been grateful when Benny hadn’t made any comment about what had happened the next morning, and even more grateful the next night, when Benny sat next to him on the bed again, staying there until Samandriel fell asleep. He wasn’t sure why Benny was doing it, and was didn't want to ask for fear it would cause him to stop, but over the next few weeks it slowly became a comfortable routine.

The only times Benny wasn’t at Samandriel’s side now was when he joined his siblings for meals, something that Samandriel was finding less and less enjoyable recently, primarily because Michael now deemed them necessary so he could keep them all updated on the war that was creeping ever closer over the horizon.

“The fighting is getting heavier at the Purgavain border,” Michael was telling them now. Samandriel rubbed tiredly at his forehead and prodded at his dinner with disinterest. He hadn’t been hungry, but Michael was insistent that he be present. If something that was said reminded Samandriel of anything he may have said during his captivity Michael wanted to be the first to hear about it.

Samandriel, to his own great relief and Michael’s growing annoyance, had not remembered anything further about his ordeal.

“-that right, Samandriel?”

Samandriel jumped at the sound of his name, guiltily looking over at an expectant Anael. He’d tuned out their conversation completely. “What’s right?”

She rolled her eyes. “That it would be more effective if we had Humaear circle behind the Purgavains so that we could trap them in the mountains.”

He nodded. “That’d be the best course of action.” Seriously, what else was Michael intending to do? Let the Purgavains keep coming and pick them off one by one?

“Did I ask either of you for your opinions? Anael, you’ve never been in anything even vaguely resembling a military operation and Samandriel can’t fight anymore. You two aren’t part of this.” Michael turned away from the both of them without even glancing at Samandriel.

The words stung like Michael had slapped him across the face. He knew he couldn’t fight anymore, _everyone_ knew by now, but he’d thought he still had some value as a strategist. He’d been good at that before… hadn’t he? A shudder forced its way through him, but other than that he managed to keep his inner turmoil out of his body language and off his face.

He could walk without his leg bothering him now, although running was still difficult, and his scars were finally healed over enough for him to remove the last of his bandages, although the scars still stood out, ugly against his light arms. Pamela had told him they’d likely be permanent and berated him as ungrateful for asking. Once, Samandriel had thought he’d wear scars as a badge of pride. Now they were just a constant reminder of the fact that he still couldn’t force his hands to clench into proper fists, especially if he wanted them to hold something.

Dinner ended at last and it took all of Samandriel’s self-control to not sprint out the doors and back to the safety of his room. Bitterly, he wondered why Michael was insisting he be at dinner if he was going to be so quick to discount his opinions as useless. Had he really been reduced to only having the potential to be helpful, and only if he remembered what he may or may not have told his torturers?

“Samandriel!” A hand grasped his shoulder, pulling him back. Gabriel was attached to it, looking apologetic. “He shouldn’t have said that, about you not being a part of this because you can’t fight. You’re worth a lot more than your ability to hold a sword.”

Well, he certainly hoped so, seeing as how that ability was now nonexistent. He forced a smile though, in part because he knew Gabriel meant well, but mostly because he thought it would be the fastest way to end the conversation. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

His brother smiled back, his looking no less forced than Samandriel's felt, and squeezed his shoulder before walking away. Samandriel made his escape, carefully dodging Castiel, who would undoubtedly want to offer comfort and condolences as well.

Of course, if he wanted to prevent himself from being questioned, it would have been best for him not to have slammed his door shut behind him and lean against it with a relieved sigh.

“Did something happen at dinner?” Benny’s Purgavain accent drawled out almost as soon as the door was shut.

Samandriel froze. He and Benny had come to an agreement a few days ago, compromising that Samandriel didn’t have to talk about what was going through his head and Benny wouldn’t pester him about it, but if Samandriel did something that made it obvious he was upset he wasn’t allowed to lie and say it was nothing. Slamming the door and collapsing against it qualified as making it obvious that he was upset.

“I guess you could say that,” Samandriel said, pushing himself off the wood and sitting on the edge of his bed. He started tugging his boots off. “Michael just said something that got to me, that’s all.”

Benny sat down next to him, giving him a look torn between sympathy and an expression that said Benny wasn’t buying any of his overly flippant bullshit. “What did he say?”

“Well, it’s not so much what he said as what he implied.” He tossed his boots across the room, not caring where they landed.

“What did he imply then?”

Samandriel flopped over backwards and waited until Benny moved so he could see his face, which was slightly amused now. “You’re really annoying sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?”

Benny shrugged. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Samandriel blew out a huff of air and stared at the ceiling. He’d become well acquainted with it over time, as it seemed to be his favorite place to look when he didn’t want to talk. “He made a comment about me not being needed anymore because I can’t fight. I know it’s true, but… I didn’t like being reminded.”

“Samandriel.” There was a bite to Benny’s voice and it pulled Samandriel up to a sitting position again, tilting his head in confusion. Benny made a point of making eye contact with him. “You aren’t useless just because you can’t pick up a sword. There’s a lot more to you than that.”

“Right.” Samandriel couldn’t help the skepticism in his voice. He was a fighter. He’d been a fighter for as long as he could remember. Now he wasn’t. “That’s why my family is treating my like a high-maintenance dog since I got home.”

“If they think it makes you useless they’re wrong. Besides, didn’t you say that most of them have practically no knowledge of how to fight? Or at least not beyond the basics? Why do you have to be so good at it?”

Samandriel’s head was suddenly filled with images of his father, smiling with pride as Samandriel showed off with his practice swords and later his real ones, nodding with approval the day Samandriel got fitted for his first set of armor. His voice telling Samandriel how proud he was to finally have a child who not only could understand military tactics but actually enjoyed everything that came along with being a soldier.

He wanted to be sick.

“Samandriel?” Benny sounded concerned now, instead of angry. “What is it?”

“I miss my father,” he responded, the words spilling out before he realized he was even thinking them. Something hard was lodged in his throat and his eyes were stinging.

A quiet ‘oh’ came from Benny, but he didn’t say anything that was directly addressed to Samandriel. Instead, he inched closer until their shoulders were almost touching. There was an arm resting behind Samandriel and he knew that if he leaned back Benny would use it to catch him. He almost wanted to fall just to give Benny an excuse. Being comforted sometimes sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world and sometimes the rugged Purgavain man seemed to be a master at it.

He didn’t lean in to get more contact though. “It’s been an awful six months. Ever since Lucifer started talking about going to war everything has been awful. I keep thinking it’s about to get better, that things can only go up from here, and then everything crumbles down again.”

“It’ll get better,” Benny assured him in a soft voice. “It may take a while, but it will. I promise.”

“Did things get better for you after your fiancé died?” The words were intended to hurt, to make Benny leave him alone before he started to cry.

They weren’t intended to make Benny’s hand appear on his knee with a soft squeeze. “I’ve met you, haven’t I?”

Samandriel looked up so fast he and Benny nearly knocked heads. He wasn’t expecting the man’s face to be no more than a few inches away, eyes sincere, with no trace of a joke in them. Samandriel swallowed, hard, finally forcing his way past the lump that had formed there. He licked his lips, suddenly feeling as though they’d gone very dry. “That was more sentimental than I was expecting,” he offered weakly.

“You bring it out in me,” Benny replied, so quietly that Samandriel would never have heard him had he not been breathing the same air, and the older man moved his head again, closing the small gap between their mouths.

Samandriel gasped in surprise and pulled back instinctively. The kiss had been so light and so short that he could almost imagine it hadn’t even happened, that it had been a figment of his imagination. The tingling sensation on his lips, however, reassured him it wasn’t.

Benny hadn’t moved, appearing to wait for a reaction more stable than one brought on by surprise. The room was silent, but in a deafening and thick sort of way. Their breathing and his own heartbeat were the only things Samandriel could hear but he could hear them as clearly as if they were screams.

“You all right, little bird?” Benny asked after an immeasurable amount of time had gone by. It was lower than a whisper, but seemed loud due to its sudden appearance in the quiet.

Was he? It was hard to tell these days. Samandriel inched forward again, even more slowly than Benny had, closing the gap again. This time there was no mistaking the fact that it was a kiss.

* * *

 

“I know I’m not exactly the expert on military tactics, but does any of this seem strange to you?”

Castiel was bent over Balthazar’s desk, looking over papers and maps detailing strategies and troop movement, while Balthazar sprawled out on his bed, extremely drunk.

“How should I know? I don’t read that stuff, you know that.” The older Novak took another drink from the bottle he’d dug up from a cache he kept under some loose stones in his floor. Castiel wasn’t sure why he bothered to hide it, but had decided it was one of those things best left unquestioned.

“It _is_ strange,” Castiel said, answering his own question. “I know I haven’t been paying extremely close attention to Michael and his war discussions, but some of these numbers aren’t adding up.”

Balthazar struggled to sit up, nearly falling off the bed in the attempt. Once he stabilized himself he looked over at Castiel and huffed his annoyance at being forced to join Castiel’s discussion. “Since you’re clearly not planning on leaving my room until I ask, just what is it that’s so strange?”

“This!” Castiel pointed to the papers strewn across his desk, but Balthazar didn’t budge. The younger man rolled his eyes before explaining. “Some of the troop deployments don’t make sense, Balthazar. And some of it doesn’t match what I’ve heard Michael telling Ambassador Kevin. It’s almost like-” He broke off, realizing what he was about to accuse his older brother of.

Unfortunately for Castiel, nothing grabbed Balthazar’s attention like someone not wanting to talk about something. He sat up drunkenly, long limbs making the sight somewhat comical. “Almost like what?”

“Nothing. I’m probably being paranoid.” Castiel started piling the papers on top of each other, planning to make his escape.

Balthazar could move very fast for a drunk person. “You’re never paranoid. Almost like what?” He was standing between Castiel and the doorway now, and for the life of him Castiel couldn’t work out how he’d managed it so quickly.

He sighed in defeat. “It almost seems as though Michael _wants_ Humaear to lose their battles.”

Balthazar frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He tells them he’s sending troops to a certain place, but this makes it look as though he’s sending less than he promised or he’s purposefully sending them too late, or… It doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes more than you’d think.” Balthazar leaned against the desk, likely because he was too drunk to stay on his feet without help for much longer. “It’s like fighting a war with three countries, except one of them is helping you while you dec- while you kill them.”

“You really think Michael would do that?”

“I think I’m more scared of Michael than I ever was of Lucifer.” Balthazar wandered back over to his bed and flopped down and was snoring a few seconds later. Castiel piled up everything he’d been looking over and left. He returned the paperwork to Michael’s office and started to traipse through the mostly empty castle halls, wide awake despite the late hour.

Would Michael really allow prejudice to dictate his choices? Lie about his plans so Humaear would be destroyed as they tried to help Edengar fight? Bile rose in Castiel’s throat and he shuddered. He didn’t want to believe it, but it wasn’t so far-fetched, not really. Michael, whatever else anyone thought of him, had always been considered ruthless. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing had been argued about, but everyone had always agreed it was one of his most notable traits.

Ruthless enough to potentially destroy an entire other country though? Castiel found himself, as he often did when he stopped paying attention to his surroundings, at the smithy. Dean had gone to bed already, but Cas let himself in and made his way up the stairs to Dean’s bedroom.

The man was sprawled out, only partially covered by his blankets as the night was warm, snoring softly and his mouth hanging open. Castiel smiled softly at the sight. He didn’t often see Dean like this. They rarely had the chance to spend the night together, Cas always concerned that one of his siblings or a guard or servant would notice something unusual. They’d become even rarer in the last six months, what with all the Novak family troubles that had demanded Castiel’s attention, or at least caused others to keep a closer eye on him.

He didn’t want to wake Dean up, just wanted the company of someone who didn’t come with strings and politics attached, so he did his best to slide into the other side of the bed without too much commotion.

Dean rolled over at the new presence, eyes fluttering open for a moment. “Who’s-Cas?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Castiel smiled and leaned over for a quick kiss. “Just me, Dean. Go back to sleep.”

Dean gave a tired nod and did just that, squirming a little to bring himself closer to Cas. Castiel put an arm around his shoulders, willing his mind to quiet from it’s suspicions and focus on where he was and how Dean was there too. That was the only important thing right now, he assured himself. He maneuvered a bit, finally making himself comfortable with his head resting on Dean’s shoulder, and shut his eyes.

* * *

 

Dean had almost expected to wake up and find that he’d imagined Cas coming to see him in the middle of the night, but when he opened his eyes the prince was still there, curled up against his side, head on his shoulder. Dean smiled down at him. It was a nice sight, one he only wished he could see more often. He hated to wake him, Castiel looked so peaceful in his sleep, but the sun was peeking in through the windowpanes and that meant Castiel had to return to the main part of the castle before someone started getting suspicious.

“Cas.” Dean nudged the other man lightly, not wanting to jerk him awake unpleasantly. Cas just muttered something Dean couldn’t make out and burrowed back into the blankets. “Cas.” Louder this time. “Hey, Cas. You have to get up.”

“I don’t want to,” Cas finally said, still not moving. “Your bed’s comfortable.”

Dean chuckled. “I’m sure yours is better.”

“Mine’s too big. And nobody’s in it.”

“You old romantic.” He kissed the top of Castiel’s head and got out of bed, earning first a pleased sound and then a noise of protest at the sudden lack of warmth. “It’s morning, Cas. You have to go.”

Cas sat up, crossed his arms over his chest, and pouted. “I hate having to do this.”

“I know.” Dean leaned over for another kiss and Castiel managed to return it while remaining angry. “Did something happen last night? You’ve never shown up in the middle of the night like that before.”

Cas looked around before answering, as though concerned he’d see someone lurking in the wardrobe. “If I tell you you _have_ to keep it secret.”

“Of course.”

Cas looked around again, and Dean began to grow concerned. Was Castiel about to tell him some state secret he wasn't supposed to know about? It didn't sound like him, but with everything that had been happening to the Novak family Dean felt that there wasn't much left to surprise him. He knew from experience that family could make you crazy, he was amazed at how well Cas had been holding himself together.

“I think Michael may want Humaear to be defeated in the war.”

“ _What?_ Cas, that doesn't make any sense, Humaear and Edengar are _allies_. Why would the king want them defeated?”

“Balthazar said something about it being like fighting three countries but you only have to really fight two. I don’t know, Dean, but I was looking over some of the maps and orders and things because I was helping Michael with some work since he and Gabriel can’t talk to each other without screaming, and it just doesn't look right.”

“You really think he’s betraying Humaear?”

Cas nodded miserably and Dean couldn't blame him. Cas hated the idea of war, and going against your word like that would be unthinkable to the man. Besides, he’d gone through quite enough with his family; one of his brothers possibly making a bad war worse by going back on his word would be enough to drive some people out of their minds.

“I-I really don’t know what to say to that.”

Cas sighed, shoulders slumped. It was one of those moments that made Dean think he didn't look at all like a prince. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed some comfort last night, and-” He smiled, sad but genuine. “And you were comforting.”

Cas leaned forward to kiss him again, smiled goodbye, and the prince slipped out the door to the smithy, back to the main part of the castle.

* * *

 

Castiel’s brain was switching between ‘Michael would never do something like that’ to ‘Oh, yes, he would,’ so quickly that he didn’t have time to build up either side of the argument. The thoughts chased each other around and around his mind like dogs chasing their tails and didn’t bother forming into something he could grab onto and study before they flitted away and were replaced by the opposing side.

He needed to tell somebody. But who? Michael was the king, it wasn't as though there was much anyone could do. And what if he was wrong? What if he caused a nationwide uproar over a hunch and some vaguely suspicious paperwork that turned out to be just a big misunderstanding?

Needing somewhere to think, away from the pressing walls of the castle that were filled with too much sentiment and emotional bias, Castiel made his way to the stables, saddling up his horse while his mind continued to race a million miles away.

“Good morning, Castiel,” a voice greeted behind him, and it sounded so cheerful that Castiel almost didn't recognize it.

He turned around to see Samandriel, who looked, while not necessarily _happy_ , certainly much less miserable that he had ever since returning from Purgavai. “Hello, Samandriel. How are you?” It was also odd to see him out of his room, and even odder for him to be out of the castle altogether.

“I’m… Not bad.” Which sounded like both the truth and a major improvement.

“Good. That’s good. Where’s…” His question was answered before he could finish asking it, as Benjamin Lafitte came around the corner, coming to stand beside Samandriel. “Ah. There. Hello, Benny.”

Benny nodded a polite greeting. “Hello, Prince Castiel.”

They were standing abnormally close to each other, Castiel thought. Perhaps Samandriel felt safer with Benny nearby. He wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing, but he wasn't going to complain so long as Samandriel continued to look happier. “What are the two of you doing?”

“Getting fresh air,” Samandriel said. “I haven’t been leaving the castle very much recently.”

Castiel had noticed. “That’s good. I was going to go for a ride, would you like to join me?” Samandriel’s company would be nice. He was frequently the easiest to talk to of all his brothers. Anael was good company as well, but lately she’d been nearly impossible to find. Castiel had started to wonder if she was sneaking off to see someone.

“I-” The relaxation on Samandriel’s face suddenly dropped away, tension filling lines Samandriel was too young to have. “Oh. Feorh’s dead. I forgot about that.” He had a stunned expression now, like he’d forgotten that there had been death around him; that he, in his own mind at least, had gotten off easier than the rest of his patrol.

“I’m sure we can find you a different horse,” Castiel offered, wishing he hadn't said anything. Comfort had never been a great skill of his. He seemed to do well enough with Dean, but he was out of his depth when it came to his own younger brother.

Samandriel said nothing, staring vacantly at the ground, until Benny nudged his arm. “Maybe you should go, li- your highness. I’m not exactly the best company to have around at all times. Spend some time with your big brother.”

Samandriel gave Benny a look that Castiel couldn't quite read the meaning of, but he didn't seem quite so upset. “That sounds… nice, Castiel. I’d like to join you.”

Castiel let out a relieved breath he hadn't known had been waiting and smiled. “Let’s go talk to the stable master then. Are you joining us, Benny?”

Benny and Samandriel exchanged glances and Benny shook his head. “I think you can handle the protection detail, your highness. If it’s alright with both of you I think I’ll go visit with a friend for a bit.”

Castiel nodded and he and Samandriel walked away, while Benny turned and reentered the castle. “Who is he going to see?”

“The blacksmith, I think. They get along fairly well. I imagine he gets lonely sometimes, being in a new place during a war.”

Castiel could understand that. And he couldn't imagine that he got much in the way of conversation with Samandriel, who was infamous for his ability to go hours without talking or paying attention to others in anyway.

They found a horse easily enough, selecting an older one that was mellow enough to not need Samandriel to hold tightly to the reins. They all very skillfully avoided expressly stating that was the purpose, although Samandriel’s unspoken disability hung thickly on the air.

They rode out for the forest, as was usual for the two of them, and let out simultaneous contented sighs once the last sounds of people faded away behind them.

“I always forget how much I like being out here,” Samandriel said, looking around him. “Especially now. It’s so much quieter than the castle.”

They were quiet again, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Castiel considered telling Samandriel his concerns, but his brother’s improved mood made it impossible for him to bring himself to do it. He’d figure out what was going on himself. The last thing Samandriel needed was more things to worry about.

* * *

 

Dean had been pleased to see Benny come into the smithy. He didn’t get many non-business visits from anyone besides Sam and Cas, and, as much as he loved the two of them, sometimes he found himself wishing for someone new to talk to. Someone he had a bit more in common with. He loved Castiel more than he’d ever thought it was possible for him to fall in love with someone, and Sam was his favorite person in the world, but he couldn’t usually talk with them about things like fighting and tournaments and weapons. Benny enjoyed those topics a great deal more.

Besides, it was probably healthy to have a friend that wasn't related to him and who he wasn't sharing a bed with at every available opportunity.

“Hey there, Benny. Where’s your prince?”

“Went out for a ride with his brother,” Benny replied, looking around at the weapons that were strewn about. Today was one of Dean’s more unorganized days.

“Castiel?”

Benny raised an eyebrow and it occurred to Dean too late that he’d forgotten to tack on ‘prince’ before the name. He’d have to be careful about that. He liked Benny, had liked him almost instantly, but he wasn't yet certain that he could trust him with such a large and potentially dangerous secret. “Yeah,” Benny said, not mentioning it, but his tone confirming that he’d noticed. “Prince Castiel. Thought I’d stop in and see you. Haven’t really had much human interaction other than Prince Samandriel.”

“I bet that’s just loads of fun, following him everywhere. There’s worse people than Prince Samandriel, but that doesn't exactly make him easy company.”

One side of Benny’s mouth pulled up. “He just takes some getting used to. I don’t mind spending time with him. He’s actually a very good conversationalist, once you give him a topic.”

“Oh, yeah? Guess that makes your job easier.”

“I suppose it does.”

Benny was still smiling like he knew something Dean didn't, but Dean chose not to pry into it. Benny seemed to have settled in well, which was good. Dean had always liked Samandriel, but he wouldn't have wanted to be around him all day, everyday the way Benny had to be. He was glad they’d proven to have at least semi-compatible personalities. And Cas would be glad to hear it, he knew.

They chatted for a while while Dean worked, talking about the jousting tournament coming up that everyone was amazed hadn't been canceled on account of the war. Benny said he liked jousting as much as anyone else, but didn't want to bring it up to Samandriel, who disliked being reminded of his inability to participate. Dean told him he’d be happy to go with him if he could make it over. Castiel found jousting fairly dull to watch and pointless to participate in, although Dean didn't say so to Benny.

Overall it was a pleasant evening, ending with the two of them eating dinner together as they waited for the princes to return and for Benny to be called back to work. Not that his work was terribly difficult, Dean supposed. It wasn't as though Samandriel was doing anything dangerous.

* * *

“That… was not where I expected tonight to go,” Benny said, still breathing hard. He was stretched out next to Samandriel on the bed, sweaty with his hair well-mussed.

Samandriel grinned at him and it was the most sincere smile he’d given anyone in months. “You kissed me like that and expected us to go our separate ways? Bit inexperienced and naive of you, isn't it?” He ached all over, but it was a fantastic feeling. More like the satisfied ache from training than the painful ache of slow-healing injuries.

Benny laughed breathlessly and rolled over, pinning Samandriel underneath him as he kissed him again. It was lazy and slow, enough so that Samandriel just lightly draped his arms around Benny’s neck as he kissed back.

Benny shifted, hands trailing down Samandriel’s sides and pulling him even closer. An arm looped around his back, pulling him off the bed just slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Benny whispered into Samandriel’s mouth and the prince pulled back so he could see his face.

“Sorry for what?”

Benny’s fingers moved, just barely, but it was enough for Samandriel to realize he was tracing one of Samandriel’s many fresh scars. “I’d give anything to have gotten there in time to prevent these.”

Samandriel didn't like being reminded of the injuries or the circumstances that had caused them. Uncomfortable and self-conscious now, Samandriel squirmed away. Benny let him go without protest.

Samandriel pulled one of his blankets over himself and burrowed into his bed. Benny moved as though to return to his room. “You can stay,” Samandriel offered, hoping he would.

“You sure?”

Samandriel nodded and was pleased when Benny made himself comfortable next to him, putting out one arm to pull Samandriel closer. Benny let out a contented sigh and nuzzled the back of Samandriel’s neck. His beard scratched the skin, but Samandriel didn't mind. There was something very reassuring about having Benny there.

Samandriel had never believed it was possible to fall in love with someone without having known them for _months_ , perhaps even years. He’d thought love - real, actual, head over heels, die for you, _love_ \- was something impossible to actually find. He certainly would not have expected to trip over it while bleeding out and strapped to a chair.

The involuntary memory sent shivers up his spine, ones he couldn't force back. Benny tightened his hold around Samandriel’s waist.

“It’s alright, little bird,” he said softly, his low voice and soft accent more reassuring than Samandriel would have ever imagined it could be if he judged just based on what Benny looked like. “I’m here. You’re safe. You’ll be alright.”

Samandriel pushed back, as though he could possibly be any closer to Benny than he was already. One of Benny’s hands had moved to his arm and was slowly trailing fingers up and down. Samandriel drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m alright, Benny.”

Benny kissed him behind his right ear. “You’re brave, Samandriel. And a lot stronger than you think you are.” The hand slid down his arm, intertwining their fingers. “I don’t think there’s much that could beat you.”

Samandriel didn't know where Benny’s faith in him came from, and was afraid to ask. Afraid that saying the wrong thing would cause Benny to realize he really wasn't so special after all. It was nice, however, to have someone who so fully believed he could fight anything life threw at him. Not someone who would prefer to deny that anything had happened at all or someone who thought he was suddenly made of glass.

Samandriel squeezed Benny’s hand, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

 


	8. I Won't Let You See My Lies

Michael sent for Castiel to meet with him before breakfast and Castiel was glad he’d chosen not to spend the night with Dean. He hadn't been caught there yet, but if Michael continued requesting his presence the chances of such a thing happening were only going to increase.

“Castiel,” Michael said when he arrived. “Take a seat.” He gestured towards a chair, but stayed standing after Castiel took it. He was wearing his crown, which was odd. He rarely wore his crown in the privacy of his office, and Castiel had never seen him with it this early or while Castiel was the only other person present.

“Good morning, Michael,” Castiel greeted with a polite nod. Michael’s shoulders were rigid and his chin tilted upwards, and Castiel could see nothing of his brother in his form. Only the king.

“I need to send someone to Humaear’s capitol to serve as ambassador.”

“What’s wrong with Ambassador Inias?”

“He’s having familial difficulties and I want to send someone more personal. We started this war, they didn’t have to join us. I think they deserve to know we appreciate it.”

“Oh. Why me?” Castiel was doing his best to not sound like he was protesting, despite the fact that he really did not want to go.

“I can’t trust Gabriel. I don’t want to send Anael out, she hasn’t had nearly enough military training. Balthazar is out, for obvious reasons. And Samandriel can’t fight.”

The only good choice. Castiel couldn’t decide if that was flattering or insulting. He didn’t want to go though. Samandriel was here, Balthazar was here, Dean was here. The longest Castiel had ever been away from home was the month he spent searching for Samandriel. He’d only been to Humaear once, when he was little, and it had been a very short visit. Castiel couldn’t even remember what the occasion had been.

“Castiel. Are you going to say something?”

There was no part of Castiel that believed the matter was up for debate. Michael had already made up his mind, and there was nothing that anyone could say or do that would change it.

“When do you want me to leave?” he asked instead.

“Within the next few days. I expect you’ll be gone at least a month, with travel time. Queen Charlotte will undoubtedly have a better estimation for you.”

“Does she know I’m coming?”

“If she doesn’t yet she will soon. I told Ambassador Kevin to send a message four days ago.”

Nice of Michael to give him some warning. “Is there anything I need to prepare before I leave?”

“I told Commander Zachariah. Talk to him, he’ll tell you anything you need to know.” Michael sat down behind his desk, no longer looking at Castiel. It was an obvious dismissal, and a rude one.

Castiel left, feeling more than a little miffed and confused. Did Michael know he was suspicious? Castiel didn’t see how he could, but it was possible. There were eavesdroppers around the castle than Castiel wasn't comfortable thinking about, and he knew he wasn’t the best at keeping his thoughts hidden. Secrets were not his strong suit.

Still, whether Michael knew about his suspicions or not, Castiel was apparently heading for Humaear, however he felt about it. He sighed. He liked the safety and predictability of the castle. He liked knowing that he could always find Balthazar or Gabriel if he wanted a drink, Anael or Samandriel if he needed to talk. He liked the reassurance of Dean being so close, even if he was feeling too paranoid to visit him. Serving as ambassador had never been something he’d envisioned for himself.

Frankly, there wasn’t much he _had_ envisioned for himself. He’d never had much in the way of goals. He was decent at most things, but not exceptional, and he was sorely lacking when it came to motivation to go out and do something.

Samandriel had always had plenty of motivation, he thought with a pang. Samandriel had all but been born wielding a sword, and he’d had the tenacity to match his talent.

A talent that had been ripped away while Castiel remained untouched and uninjured, sitting securely in the castle where he had no aspirations to do anything other than what he was told. He didn’t even care much for fighting, and his skill at it could only be considered adequate.

It wasn’t fair, and the reminder of that twisted something in Castiel’s gut. It was nearly time for breakfast now, but he was no longer hungry.

He asked for a plate to take to Samandriel and made for his younger brother’s room.

Samandriel seemed somewhat frazzled when he opened the door, stammering for Castiel to hold on a moment and then shutting it again. Castiel wondered if he’d woken Samandriel from a nightmare when he’d knocked. It was an awful thought, Samandriel had seemed to be doing better. Castiel would be even more upset about leaving if he had to leave Samandriel while he was going through a rough patch.

Samandriel did let him in eventually, and seemed in a pretty good mood overall, if a little on edge about something. Benny was in his own room, leaving them with some privacy.

“Brought you breakfast,” Castiel offered weakly, lifting up the plate.

“I noticed. How come? And why didn’t you bring any for yourself?”

“I’m not hungry.” They sat down and Samandriel started eating, looking at Castiel with concern.

“What’s going on, Castiel?”

He heaved a sigh, unhappy at the reminder. “Michael is sending me to Humaear as ambassador.”

Samandriel, who couldn’t hold his silverware very well now anyway, dropped his fork. “What? Why?”

“He said he wanted to send someone personal. And apparently I’m the best choice.”

Samandriel nodded. “Makes sense.” He looked down at his hands and his fingers twitched as if he was thinking about clenching them. He shook his head and looked back up. “When do you leave?”

“In a few days, apparently. I’m supposed to talk to Commander Zachariah for details.”

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?”

“At least a month, by the sound of it. Queen Charlotte will be giving the orders once I’m there, so I can’t say for certain.”

“Well, she’s not as much of a hard-ass as Michael. Shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I hope not.”

The two of them sat in silence a while longer, neither certain how to say any of the emotions coursing through them. Castiel finally left after Samandriel finished his breakfast, taking the plate away with him.

* * *

 

“That was close, huh, little bird?” Benny said after Samandriel had gotten up and told him Castiel was gone.

Samandriel’s lips twitched, but the smile was so fleeting that he may as well have spared himself the effort and done nothing.

The two of them had still been in bed - thankfully not _doing_ anything, but still very much without clothes - when Castiel had knocked. Benny had kept a level head, strengthening Samandriel's suspicion that there was nothing with the capability to throw the man off balance, but Samandriel’s heart had nearly stopped in his chest.

The concern about being caught had vanished pretty quickly upon hearing Castiel’s news.

“What did your brother have to say?” Benny asked, noticing that Samandriel’s mind was clearly elsewhere.

“He’s being sent to Humaear. Michael wants an ambassador that proves he’s taking the war seriously and is grateful for Humaear’s help.” Which wasn’t a bad strategy by any means. Samandriel might have recommended it himself, had anyone asked. It was a purely selfish part of him wishing Castiel didn’t have to go. And, he supposed, the part of him that knew Castiel didn’t have any desire to be sent. The man had always preferred to stay in the capitol, even when he was young and at the age when most children wish to tear off into the world and explore everything there is to see.

Benny stepped behind him, looping one arm around his shoulders and pressing them together, back to chest. “You’re worried about him?”

“Of course. He’s my brother.”

“You don’t think he can take care of himself?”

“I thoughtI could take care of myself.”

Benny didn’t say anything to that, just tightened his grip a little. Samandriel was discovering that Benny didn’t like being reminded of Samandriel’s ordeal anymore than Samandriel did, for all that he insisted the younger man couldn’t just deny that anything had happened. It was touching, though Samandriel wished it didn’t come with Benny blaming himself for not having done something in time to prevent the worst of the injuries.

Benny pressed a kiss into his hair and Samandriel closed his eyes. “I don’t how I’d get through any of this without you.”

“You’d manage, little bird. I keep telling you, you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Samandriel had argued with him about that before, but he was too content to do so now. “Still, having you here makes it easier.”

Benny’s chuckle was quiet, but Samandriel could feel it reverberating around Benny’s chest and against Samandriel’s spine. “Glad to help, your highness.”

If he hadn’t been in Benny’s arms right then he would have shoved him for calling him that. Benny only ever said it teasingly, and sometimes it was funny, but other times it triggered a nagging worry in the back of his mind that he was somehow coercing Benny into this relationship. He’d chosen to respond with at least a teasing reprimand each time he heard it.

Benny let him go after a few more minutes, slowly stepping away. Samandriel made a displeased noise in response and narrowed his eyes at his bodyguard. “I was comfortable.”

Benny laughed. “I’m sure you were, little bird. But, if memory serves, didn’t you promise your sister we’d meet her outside and take a walk with her today?”

And woe to anyone who broke a promise made to Anael. She seemed like a very proper and demure princess, but Samandriel knew better than to believe even a second of it. She’d have made a good soldier herself, if Michael or their father had ever bothered to look past her gender to see potential. There were women in the armies, but a princess being amongst them would be more than a great many people could comprehend.

“Fine.” Samandriel stretched, hearing something pop in his back with a sensation that was only two-thirds pain. “We should probably go then. I think we might already be late.”

They were, and it was obvious as soon as they stepped into the castle courtyard and caught sight of Anael, who was glaring at them as though she could somehow light them on fire with the use of her eyes alone. If anyone could, Samandriel thought, it would be her.

“Did you two forget about me?”

“Sorry, Anael,” Samandriel said as he and Benny reached her and the three of them began walking. Benny was along as a guard for both of them. Their father, and now Michael, didn’t like the idea of any of them going through the village unaccompanied. Too many people meant too many uncertainties, they always said.

Samandriel didn’t mind at the moment. He liked having Benny there. Even when they weren’t touching the older man’s presence was reassuring.

Anael huffed. “What distracted you? You’re usually the most punctual out of all of us.”

“Castiel came by and we talked for a bit. He, uh… Michael’s sending him to Humaear.”

“He is? How come?”

“Ambassador work.” Samandriel filled her in on everything he knew as they walked through the village streets. Nobody spared them a second glance. It was always strange to Samandriel how a simple change of clothing could take them from soldiers and princes and princesses to just another face in the crowds. Even with a bodyguard standing next to them, sizing up anyone who came too close, no one thought anything of them.

Anael bit her lip after Samandriel finished. “Because we haven’t had enough to be stressed about already, right?” She sighed. “I want this war to be over and for us to get something that at least r _esembles_ normalcy back.”

“I think we all do. There’s been a lot of change in not very much time.” Samandriel sighed, looking around. “At least the village has managed to stay the same.” His hands twitched at his sides, as though feeling a need to remind him that no matter where he went there was one thing that would probably never be like it was before.

He forced his thoughts away from that. “Are you hungry yet? We could stop into a tavern or something.”

“Sure.”

The three of them carried on, Anael and Samandriel making meaningless conversation that was easily lost in the babble of the crowds filling the streets all around them.

* * *

 

“I hope he doesn’t make you fight,” Dean told Castiel as the prince prepared to leave his room. It was said in such a way that Castiel almost wasn’t certain if it had been meant for him.

“I hope he doesn’t as well. I should be all right, though. The capitol of Humaear isn’t near the battle lines. There shouldn’t be any fighting there for me to get involved in.”

“What about the trip there?”

That was less certain, and as much as Cas wanted to reassure Dean that he would be fine, all he could think of was how certain everyone had been that Samandriel would be just fine when _he_ left. And then how bloody and torn up he’d been when he’d finally been found. “I’ll be taking every precaution,” he said instead of an empty reassurance. “We’ll be prepared for any ambushes we may run across.”

“You better be.” Dean reached out and pulled Castiel in for a long kiss goodbye, releasing him reluctantly after it ended.

Castiel did his best to keep his own worry off his features, although it seemed unlikely that Dean wouldn’t see straight through it. He smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Dean. I’ll be back soon enough.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

They locked eyes for a minute, silently communicating the hundreds of things the two of them so rarely said aloud. Castiel nodded, smiled again, and left, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. He didn’t want to leave.

“ _There_ you are, Castiel,” a voice said before he got more than a few feet away from the smithy door.

Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Michael approaching him from down the hallway. Had he seen him coming out of the smithy? Was he suspicious about it? About Dean? He swallowed hard. “Hello, Michael.”

“What are you doing here this late at night? Everyone else is in bed by now.”

“Oh. I was just… out for a walk. I didn’t feel tired, I thought moving around some might help.”

“I see.” Castiel couldn’t tell whether or not Michael believed him and it made his heart thud so loudly that he was afraid Michael might hear it.

“Are you ready to leave tomorrow morning?” Michael asked, and Castiel allowed himself to breathe just a little easier. Surely Michael would have pressed harder if he thought something was amiss.

He nodded. “I’m ready. I have everything packed and all the men have their orders. We’ll leave on schedule.”

“Good. I expect full reports when you get back.”

“Of course.”

They went their separate ways quickly enough, Castiel returning to his room, where he heaved out a sigh of relief. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to call off his and Dean’s relationship, but the thought was always banished as quickly as it came. Dean was worth the risk, and he knew the potential consequences as well as Castiel did.

Castiel curled up in bed, trying to ignore his concerns and the wish to have Dean lying next to him.

The morning came too soon for his liking, insisting that he get up and drag himself and his things to the courtyard and onto a horse. There was some ceremony from Michael, goodbyes from his siblings despite him having said goodbye the day before, and then Castiel was riding out with a small army, moving towards Humaear with a twisting in his gut.

* * *

 

“Well, I suppose that’s one problem down,” Zachariah said, following Michael into his office after seeing Castiel off. “But why didn’t you simply tell him you knew about his relationship with Dean Winchester?”

“I am limited on reliable siblings these days, Zachariah. I need Castiel to be on my side, at least for the time being. I can’t do that if I confront him about Dean face-to-face. I’ll have a repeat of what’s happened with Gabriel, and I can’t afford that right now.”

“Are you going to do something about the blacksmith as well?”

“Of course. There’s no telling what my brother’s told him, or who he’s repeated it to.”

“How are you going to find out?”

Michael glared at his army’s commander. “I don’t need to share all of my plans with you, Zachariah. Some things are best kept to myself.”

“I apologize, your majesty. I didn’t intend-”

“I don’t care what you intended. I have work to do, and you don’t need to be present for it, so I’d appreciate it if you went back to the job you are actually employed for.”

Zachariah bowed and backed out of the room. Michael rolled his eyes at the sight. Zachariah was useful, and loyal, but there were times when Michael wished the man would grow himself a spine of some sort. The bowing and scraping was sometimes enough to drive Michael mad.

The blacksmith did have to be dealt with, but Michael thought he would require a bit more finesse than Castiel had. Michael didn’t just want him out of the picture, he wanted to know what he knew. And it seemed unlikely that he’d offer up any information of his own free will.

Who’d have thought, with a Purgavain serving as Samandriel’s bodyguard, Samandriel having been tortured for information, and Gabriel sharing his bed with the Purgavain ambassador, that it would turn out to be mild-mannered Castiel who was keeping the biggest secret? And for a while too, Michael assumed. He’d never have thought Castiel had it in him.

He wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating the man again. There was one thing he was learning very quickly as king - there was no one that could be trusted completely. Not even family. He wished his father had thought to teach him that before his death, although he supposed Lucifer’s banishment should have served as warning enough.

Michael began to make his way to the smithy to talk to the blacksmith in person. For the life of him, Michael couldn’t understand what Castiel saw in the man. At least Gabriel had an excuse with Kali, she was pretty and exotic and unusual enough to catch the man’s attention. Dean Winchester was an average man in an average job and the only unusual thing about him was the faint lilt to his words that showed his fading Humaearan accent.

Dean gave Michael a polite nod when he entered the smithy, busy heating metal on the forge. “Good morning, your majesty. Can I help you with something?”

“What is your opinion of my brother?”

To his credit, Dean only faltered for a moment. “Which one of your brothers, your majesty?”

“I’m certain you know, Dean,” Michael said, not expecting Dean to admit to the relationship, but wanting him to know that the king knew about it.

Dean’s jaw jumped, and his voice was uneven when he spoke again. “I’m afraid not, sire. And besides, I don’t feel that I’d be qualified to have an opinion on any member of the royal family.”

Good answer. Much too late for him to save himself, but a good answer. A few weeks ago, Michael may even have believed it.

He smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course not. Thank you for your time, Dean.”

Dean’s nervous expression made it crystal clear to Michael that he knew he and Castiel had been caught. And without Castiel there to come to his defense too.

“Oh, and Dean?” Michael said as he prepared to leave. “If you happen to think of anything I should know about, something you may have heard one of my brothers say, perhaps, I would greatly appreciate your coming to tell me about it.”

He left, satisfied that the first part of his message had been successfully delivered.

* * *

 

Dean had cut and burned himself more in the last few hours than he had in the entirety of his time since finishing his apprenticeship. He couldn’t focus on his work, and the few times someone had come in to talk to him his responses had been so slow and disjointed that the other person had left almost immediately.

How had Michael known? And why didn’t he seem to really be doing anything about it? At least if Castiel had ever wanted to threaten someone he’d be upfront about it, letting them know exactly what was coming and what he wanted. All Dean was certain of right now was that Michael did want _something._ Information of some sort, apparently. Information Dean thought it was safe to say he didn’t have, because if he did he’d probably be able to figure what the hell Michael was talking about.

What sort of information could Dean have anyway? Something Castiel would have told him, obviously, but what could Castiel know that Michael didn’t already know about?

That just made things all the scarier. Dean wasn’t naive enough to think Michael wasn’t going to come up with some sort of leverage to get Dean to talk about whatever it was he wanted Dean to talk about. Without Castiel there to defend him or at least find out more about what was going on, Dean felt like he’d suddenly been dropped into the middle of the ocean and told to swim to shore without being told which way that was.

He forced his way through the rest of the day's work, sent out everything that was supposed to be delivered or picked up, and locked the smithy door. He paced around until his feet started to ache, then sat down and wrenched his hands through his hair.

He wished Michael would just come out and deliver his threat, rather than leaving Dean to wonder what he was planning. He couldn’t prepare for something if he didn’t know what was coming.

 _Just calm down, Dean_ , he told himself sternly. _Breathe for a minute. Think about this. What would you do if you were Michael?_

He took a deep breath to try and steady himself. What would he do if he were Michael? If he were the type of man to exile his own brother and possibly betray an ally country during a war; what would he use as leverage to find out something he wanted to know?

Torture didn’t seem to be the king’s style. Castiel had always made it seem as though Michael was a very subtle sort of person. So he probably wouldn’t attack Dean in an obvious way. But what else could he use?

Dean supposed he could threaten his job somehow. Perhaps spread rumors about Dean that could severely damage his reputation. It didn’t seem quite right, however. If he lost his job he would have nothing left to lose, and a damaged reputation meant he had nothing to gain either.

So what else could he be threatened with? He didn’t exactly have much. There was Castiel, his job, and-

Dean was halfway out the door before the thought even finished forming.

He took the stairs three at a time, running down hallways and nearly knocking over more than a few servants. He skidded to a halt just outside the library, finding that he’d put the pieces together just a few minutes too late.

Sam’s arms were pinned behind his back and he was twisting around, asking what was going on, voice get louder and louder, but he was consistently ignored.

“Dean?" Sam called, noticing him in the doorway. "Dean! What’s going on? Dean!” Sam was shoved roughly past him, stumbling.

“Sammy!” Dean whirled around, looking back into the library, where the king was standing, arms crossed over his chest and a smug expression on his face.

An expression that said ‘It’s your move now.’


	9. A Knife in my Back

The journey into Humaear had been uneventful overall, to Castiel’s great relief. The relief didn’t last long, however, as Queen Charlotte rode out to greet them and her expression was one that could have sent grown men, trembling, to their knees.

“Prince Castiel,” she greeted stiffly, looking around at the men surrounding him.

“Queen Charlotte.” He looked around at his men as well. “Um, could you all give us some privacy?” He looked to Humaear’s queen. “I assume you have somewhere you’d like them to be?”

She nodded and gestured for the man who had accompanied her to meet them to step forward and take over. “Walk with me, Castiel,” she said.

Castiel didn’t think it would be wise to point out that they were riding, not walking. They left the Edengardian soldiers behind them, and once they were safely out of hearing distance Queen Charlotte began to speak.

“Your brother sent you here to assure me that he is doing everything he can to help Humaear, since we’re getting the brunt of the attack from Purgavai.”

Castiel wasn’t certain if it had been intended as a question, but he nodded anyway. “That’s right, your majesty.”

She snorted. “And have you come to lie for him, to tell me the truth, or to prove that you’re stupid enough to believe him yourself?”

That was a kick to the stomach. If Queen Charlotte had suspicions about what Michael was doing as well - and by the sound of it she had a lot more than suspicions - then maybe Castiel hadn’t been wrong about it after all.

“I was actually hoping you’d tell me everything was going just as planned and I was wrong about my brother.”

Queen Charlotte looked a little thrown by that answer, her face softening. Castiel felt miserable. Lucifer had been bad enough, was he really going to have to go through everything all over again with Michael?

“So you _do_ know what he’s doing.”

“I’ve been suspicious recently. Some of the things he's said don't seem to match up with certain other things he's said or paperwork I've seen.”

“Well, it’s not matching up here either. Apparently your brother thinks I’ve lost every ounce of intelligence I’ve ever had, if he thought I wasn’t going to realize something was going on. Now my only question is _why_?”

Castiel couldn’t do anything besides shrug helplessly. “I don’t - Balthazar said something about Michael’s beliefs not being so different from Lucifer’s after all.”

“He wants to wipe us out along with Hellacia and Purgavai.”

“I wish I could say no. But… I suppose it’s beginning to look that way, isn’t it?”

Charlotte looked sympathetic. “It’s been a rough time for you Novaks, hasn’t it?”

“Seems as though we haven’t had a chance to properly breathe in eons now. And apparently I’m now the only sibling that Michael feels is both useful and can be trusted, which means I’ve done more work for the crown in the last six months than I had in my entire life.”

Charlotte laughed. “Not much fun, is it? Not nearly as glamorous as people like to say.”

“That’s for sure.” Castiel shook his head. “If you know that Michael’s been lying to you, I assume that means you have some sort of plan already?”

Charlotte nodded. “And I would appreciate your input, Castiel.”

“Whatever I can do to help. I’d like this entire thing to end as soon as possible.”

“So would I. So we’d best get to work.”

* * *

 

It had been a week since Castiel had left for Humaear, which meant he was there by now but still wasn’t going to be home for awhile, and it meant that it had been a week since Dean’s baby brother had been dragged into a jail cell. For destruction of castle property, he’d since found out, although nobody seemed able to say what it was Sam had supposedly destroyed. Not that it mattered much. The king could throw someone in jail with no reason at all if he wanted to.

He hadn’t even been allowed to see him. Dean couldn’t sleep at night and couldn’t work during the day, mind filled with images of Sam, hungry and dirty and scared, sitting alone in a dark and damp cell, wondering what he’d done wrong. Dean couldn’t even tell him that it was his fault and apologize.

Michael had been smart about it. If Dean had known anything he would have told the king in a heartbeat, just hoping that he’d be allowed to take his brother and leave, or at least take his place. But, try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything that might appease the king. Castiel never talked about politics with him, really. Especially after Gabriel and Kali had been caught together.

He put his face in his hands and rubbed at his temples. He’d been in tight spots before, but this was different, this was _Sam_.

What sort of person screwed with someone’s family like this anyway? Michael had gone to _war_ because of _his_ little brother - unless that had just been him taking an opportunity. Maybe both. Either way, Dean had a constant headache, bags forming under his eyes, and his stomach was twisting so much that it was starting to hurt, and he had no idea what to do about any of it.

“Hello, Dean,” a voice greeted, and Dean jumped. He really must have been out of it, he hadn’t heard the smithy door open. He’d been keeping it shut more often than not now, not wanting anyone to see his distress without giving him some morning.

It was Benny, and he looked at Dean with serious concern once he caught glimpse of his face. “You don’t look so good, Dean. What’s going on?”

He very nearly said it was nothing, just a long day and a bad night’s sleep, but he stopped before he could form the words. Benny had said he was getting close to Samandriel. Close enough for Samandriel to value his opinions, maybe? Or at least listen to his requests?

Requests such as letting Dean’s brother out of prison?

“Can I trust you?”

Benny’s confusion visibly increased at the question. “Of course.”

Dean took a deep breath to prepare himself. “Long story short? The king had my little brother thrown in jail so he could use him as leverage against me to try and get me to inform on Castiel to him, but I have nothing to inform him about, so there’s nothing I can do, and I would really appreciate it if you could talk to Prince Samandriel and see if he can possibly get my brother released.” He finished the entire explanation in one breath and then waited.

Benny just blinked at him. “’Fraid I’m going to need the long version, Dean.”

The long version really wasn’t all that long, as it turned out, just full of things Dean hadn’t really wanted to talk about. It was worth it though, because at the end of it Benny nodded.

“I don’t know if Samandriel _can_ do anything; the king’s pretty much taken away all of his authority lately, but I’ll do what I can. I promise.”

And even with the caution that it may not do any good, Dean heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Benny.”

“Don’t mention it. He’s your family. He shouldn’t be used against you like that.” Benny got up and made to leave. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Thank you, again.” If Samandriel could, in fact, get Sam released, Dean would take him and they’d get out of the capitol. He’d work out how to contact Castiel about it later. Maybe he could have Benny deliver a message.

First, however, they had to find out if Samandriel could even help.

* * *

 

“Wait a moment, you know who ordered the ambush on Samandriel’s patrol?” Castiel got more than a few glares at having interrupted Queen Charlotte, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

“No. We do know that the order came from Hellacia, however. And if Samandriel is correct about Ambassador Crowley having been present I think it’s safe to say the order came from very up Hellacia’s social ladder. Possibly even from Queen Lilith herself.”

“But how would she even have known-”

“She wouldn’t have had to know. If enough border skirmishes took place the king would send one of his siblings out to investigate eventually. They simply had to wait until they saw him to attack as a large group.”

The idea of someone sitting in wait for Samandriel was sickening, even if the knowledge that they’d targeted him was nothing new. “Are you saying Hellacia wanted this war?”

Queen Charlotte smiled a little. “It does sound a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it? Nonetheless, it’s the theory that makes the most sense.”

That was disconcerting. Responding to something the way your enemy wanted you to respond was never a good thing, Castiel knew that much at least. Surely that meant Hellacia had some trick up their sleeve they hadn’t revealed yet. He swallowed nervously and was silent again, listening to Queen Charlotte and her advisors talk.

He didn’t really have much to contribute save for when someone asked him about Michael, and even then he felt woefully unprepared. Samandriel would have been much better suited for this, he thought. He understood military tactics better than some soldiers. A pity that Michael thought that knowledge had vanished once he couldn’t hold a sword anymore.

Once the meeting ended, Castiel started to walk back to the room he was staying in and was quickly joined by Charlotte. “Thank you for your help, Castiel. I’ll be honest, I expected more of a fight.”

“I just want everything to be over. I want to stop worrying about whether my friends and family are going to make it home every time they leave the city. If Michael is keeping that from happening…”

Charlotte put a hand on his shoulder. “It must be difficult, I know. He is your brother, after all.”

Castiel sighed, feeling as though his chest was going to cave in under all the stress he was feeling. “He banished Lucifer without a second thought. As far as he’s concerned, family isn’t always worth the trouble they come with.”

He sounded bitter, even to his own ears, which was a strange feeling. He didn’t like being bitter. He didn’t like a lot of the things he’d been feeling recently. Bitter, angry, frustrated, and just wanting to grab Michael by the collar, shake him, and scream ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ in his face.

He couldn’t, and he doubted he would have even if Michael was nearby, but entertaining the thought seemed to be somewhat therapeutic. Perhaps Dean hadn’t been so wrong about a little violence being all right every now and then after all.

* * *

 

Benny wasn’t back yet when Samandriel returned from dinner, but he didn’t think much of it. Even if Benny did love him as much as he claimed to - a thought which both delighted Samandriel and baffled him - the man was bound to appreciate having someone else’s company. Samandriel would have to remember to give Benny time off to visit Dean more often.

Samandriel was reading about a war his great-grandfather had led when Benny returned, and wondering if Michael would listen if Samandriel suggested that he become a military advisor. His strategic skills had only improved since his abduction and he was getting sick of having nothing to do all day. Benny could only provide distraction for so long.

“Evening, Samandriel.”

“Hello, Benny.” Samandriel finished the paragraph he was reading, slipped a piece of paper into the book to mark his place, and closed it. “How was dinner with Dean?”

“It was good. Nice.” He seemed distracted.

“Is something wrong?”

Benny didn’t respond to the question, instead saying, “How much authority do you have these days? I mean, I know your brother has been treating you like you’re helpless, but how much does the castle staff listen to you?”

It was an odd thing to ask, but Samandriel trusted that Benny had a reason for it and would explain eventually. “It depends on who I’m talking to,” he replied. “I can request things from servants as well as ever, but I don’t have any military authority or anything like that anymore. I can’t even make suggestions during training.” He hoped the subject would be dropped soon, he was starting to feel bitter and resentful again.

With Benny’s prompting Samandriel had finally gotten up the nerve to go down to the training yard a few days ago, but he might as well have been a child again for all the respect he got. He was a prince, people acknowledged that much, but all the credit he had built up for himself over his life had vanished. Zachariah probably had something to do with it. He probably enjoyed Samandriel being unable to fight.

“Why did you ask?” Samandriel said before his mind could venture too far down that path.

Benny seemed to hesitate for a minute. “No real reason. Something Dean said made me wonder, that’s all.”

“Oh.” What was the blacksmith doing, talking about him and his authority like it was any of his business? He bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything about it. For all he knew it had been a perfectly valid conversation, and Dean was Benny’s friend.

“Sorry I asked,” Benny told him, and he kissed Samandriel to prove it.

Samandriel felt his face growing hot. He blushed at the strangest times when Benny was around. “It’s not a problem.”

Benny hooked an arm around his waist and pulled them together. Samandriel made a pleased sound he’d have been embarrassed to make in front of anyone else and kissed him back.

Samandriel tried to tell himself that it was all in his head, or maybe Benny was just tired, but the other man seemed distant tonight. He was doing all the same things as usual, but it felt to Samandriel that he was just going through the motions. He shoved the thought away and did his best to lose himself in the moment.

* * *

 

Castiel had been steeling himself all day, preparing to talk to Humaear’s queen, and he finally caught her as she returned from sending out more soldiers.

“Queen Charlotte?”

“Castiel. What can I do for you?”

Castiel still wasn’t certain if she left out his title because she was being friendly or because she was sending him a message about how he didn’t have any power in her country. “Can we talk, your majesty?”

“Of course. Come with me, I needed to pick up some paperwork before today’s meeting anyway.”

Safely locked inside Charlotte’s office and away from both prying eyes and listening ears, Castiel felt only marginally reassured.

“You can take a seat if you’d like,” Charlotte told him, taking her own behind the desk. It wasn’t so different from Michael’s office, but it felt a world away. In fact, the difference between Charlotte and Michael couldn’t have been greater if they’d been trying.

Castiel did take a seat, but he sat on the edge of it, back straight and still on edge.

“What did you want to talk about, Castiel?”

“What exactly are you expecting me to do once I get home, Charlotte?” he asked, forgoing her title in the hopes that she wanted them to be on friendly terms and it would help her be more honest with him.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve spent the last few days establishing that Michael is hoping for Humaear to become a war casualty but will help him defeat Hellacia and Purgavai before that. We don’t know what his plans are for after the war, but I think we can all agree that he isn’t going to sit back and let everyone build their countries back up over the next few decades. Which means I’m assuming you’re letting me take part in the discussions because you’re hoping I can help keep Humaear from going under. So what is it you’re expecting me to do?”

She looked surprised. “You’re smarter than your brother gives you credit for, Castiel.”

“That has nothing to do with what I asked.”

“Sure it does. But never mind, it’s not important. I was just thinking aloud.”

“Are you going to answer my question then?”

“Of course. We’ll talk about it more later, of course, but I was hoping you would be an informant for us. When Michael sends out new orders just tell us what he’s actually doing so we can compensate.”

“Why don’t you just back out of the war?”

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. Hellacia doesn’t really pay us much attention, but Purgavai would love an excuse to burn us down. Now they have one. Even if we hadn’t allied with Edengar they likely would have attacked us, claiming that crossing into Edengar at our border is easier than crossing the mountains at their own.”

It was valid reasoning, Castiel had to admit. Still, he couldn’t see how Humaear was going to manage to pull through this war without Edengar properly helping them, whether they knew about it or not. Castiel remembered Samandriel saying that Edengar wouldn’t be able to do it, and he knew for a fact that Edengar had the better army.

Charlotte must have read the concern on his face. She smiled at him. “Don’t worry so much, Castiel. We’ll work it out. We just have to survive a little longer first.”

* * *

 

Despite knowing that Benny wouldn’t come back until the next day, regardless of what Samandriel said, Dean couldn’t manage to get to sleep that night. He kept flashing between being excited and relieved and then being worried and about to be sick as he remembered that maybe Samandriel wouldn’t be able to help him after all.

Or just plain wouldn’t. Samandriel had always seemed nice enough, and Castiel obviously loved him to death, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was going to be willing to help a man escape when his oldest brother and king had expressly ordered that man to be arrested. What if he got angry at Benny for even suggesting it? Dean’s insides went icy at the thought. What if he’d just made his friend meet the same fate as his brother?

Those sorts of thoughts just got louder and more insistent and more frantic throughout the night, and by the time morning came Dean was exhausted and nauseous.

To his relief, Benny didn’t make him wait very long before bringing the news. Unfortunately, the news wasn’t good.

“He can’t help?” Dean wasn’t sure if he was distraught or resigned. Had he really thought his problem could be solved so easily?

Benny shook his head. “I’m sorry.” And he looked like he meant it, for all the good that did Dean. “He isn’t respected by much of anyone these days, and especially not by the king. There’s no way the guards would let an order from him override one from Michael, even if he lied to them. They might have believed Castiel, if he were here, but not Samandriel.”

And it all came down to Castiel being gone again. Which, of course, was why Michael had sent him off to Humaear in the first place, no matter what he’d said about wanting to impress the Humaearan queen and send out his most reliable brother. Bastard.

“But-” Benny began, and Dean looked up, barely daring to be hopeful this time, “I think I may be able to get to a set of keys.”

Was he - no, he wouldn’t - would he? “Benny, are you suggesting what I think you are?”

Benny nodded.

God, who was this guy? Who offered to risk being arrested for the brother of a man he’d only known for a few months? Well, he supposed, this was the same man who had risked being killed and exiled from his country because he wanted to help out a man he didn’t know anything about and who might not have even survived. Apparently, Benjamin Lafitte was secretly a saint.

“I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger like that, Benny,” Dean told him, trying to ignore the selfish and protective older brother part of himself insisting that he should take him up on the offer.

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering. That’s different.”

“I can’t let you-”

Benny held up a hand to silence him. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Dean didn’t. This was insane, dangerous, _suicidal_ , but it was also _Sam_ and a horrible option was better than no option at all.

Benny took his silence as agreement. “Well then. I’ll do everything I can.”

* * *

 

“You’re certain you don’t need me to stay any longer?” Castiel asked, pleased to be going home but thrown off by the fact that he’d only been in Humaear for a few days.

Queen Charlotte shook her head. “I think we can agree that you’ll be more help to us if you’re Edengar. Tell your brother we didn’t really need you for much, I doubt he’ll be too suspicious.”

Castiel certainly hoped she was right. Lying had never been a major skill of his, and he knew that he was exceptionally bad at it when under pressure. If Michael asked too many questions he was bound to realize something wasn’t quite right. The only reason he hadn’t found out about Castiel’s relationship with Dean yet was because he’d never been suspicious enough to ask about it, to Castiel’s great relief.

Still, he nodded at Charlotte. “I’ll do my best to tell you everything you need to know.”

“I know you will. Thank you for all your help, Castiel. I’ll admit, I was worried before you got here. I half-thought I was going to push your brother to start another war.”

“I don’t think Michael would start a war over somebody arguing with me.” But really, who could tell with Michael? Apparently their father had been the only thing keeping him from going completely insane before, and now he was intelligent on top of bloodthirsty.

At least Lucifer had always been honest about wanting to kill people. Michael was sneaky about it, and Castiel didn’t like being lied to.

He and the queen finished their goodbyes and Castiel went to gather his horse and join the men who would be accompanying him back to Edengar. The group wasn’t as large as the one that had escorted him down, and many of them were injured and heading home because of it, but Castiel wasn’t too worried. Charlotte had assured him that the route they would be taking was far enough from the Purgavain border that they wouldn’t be bothered except, perhaps, by beggars, but they were usually deterred by the mere sight of a weapon.

Castiel was glad to be going home, however worried he was about Michael and whether or not he would be able to help Queen Charlotte as much as she seemed to think he would be. She had heard about Michael, knew him on paper and had listened to reports, but she didn’t _know_ him.

Not like Castiel did.

How could she? How could she be expected to know anything? She couldn’t know what Castiel did. Couldn’t know about Michael helping Castiel learning to ride a horse, helping Samandriel pick out his first sword. She hadn’t seen Michael a few years ago, when times were simpler and Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel would go everywhere together, laughing as though they didn’t have a care in the world. She hadn’t been there as Michael pretended not to know that Gabriel and Lucifer had given Balthazar more alcohol than he was expecting and just sat back and laughed at them.

It was easy to fight a man when everything you knew about him could use _is_ instead of _was._

* * *

 

It had been a few days but Samandriel still couldn’t shake the feeling that Benny’s thoughts were elsewhere more often than not. He’d asked him about it, but Benny would just smile, tell him not to worry, that everything was fine, and kiss him, as though that could make all the worries just vanish.

Maybe they could be the first time, but now Samandriel was really starting to worry that Benny was going to slip right through his fingers and he was going to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him. And he didn’t even know what it was he’d done wrong.

Benny had said he wanted to go for a walk, get some fresh air, and had gone out while Samandriel was at dinner with his siblings. Try as he might, Samandriel just kept hearing that as ‘I need some time away from you.’ Which would be _fine_ , Samandriel understood needing time alone, but that on top of Benny feeling so distant all of a sudden just made him want to be sick.

He’d made up his mind while he ate, mostly ignored by his siblings as usual, that he would force Benny to talk about it tonight. The not knowing what was going on was going to drive him insane far more easily than anything Benny could say. At least if Benny said it Samandriel would know.

But then Benny wasn’t back when Samandriel returned and he ended up pacing round and round his room until he thought he might wear holes through the floor and Benny still wasn’t back. _‘How long does it take to go for a walk?’_ Samandriel thought, throwing himself onto the bed and getting up again almost immediately. He couldn’t get comfortable anywhere, feeling like he was jittering out of his own skin.

When someone finally came to Samandriel’s room it wasn't Benny and they knocked first. “Prince Samandriel?” a voice called through the door, one Samandriel didn’t recognize, though he assumed it belonged to a guard.

He opened the door despite half wanting to tell the man to go away so he could go back to waiting. “What is it?”

“The king says you’re needed in the throne room.”

“Why?”

“He said someone was caught trying to break into the jail cells and he wants the entire royal family there. He also said he wanted you to be ‘properly dressed.’”

The man must have been a new addition to the castle guard, going by how unpracticed he sounded as he recited Michael’s orders.

“I’ll be there in just a moment then,” Samandriel said, and shut the door a little more quickly than was probably polite.

It couldn’t have been Benny. The thought had only crossed his mind because he’d been thinking about Benny when he heard. Benny wouldn’t have done something like that. He wouldn’t have.

Samandriel swallowed hard, put on his impassive face that he always wore for court, and changed his clothes quickly. He set his crown on his head before he left and it somehow felt even heavier than it usually did.

The walk to the throne room felt too fast, and he was met on the way by Gabriel, who offered him a weak smile. “Just when we thought we were free of the family for the night, right, Samandriel?”

“That eager to stay away from us?”

“From Michael, anyway. You’ve seen how he looks at me. Like I’m off killing kittens whenever he’s not looking.”

Samandriel had seen. Michael didn’t care for any of them much these days. Gabriel was the traitor, Balthazar the drunk, Anael the girl, and Samandriel the useless. Castiel had ended up as the favorite just because there was no one left for the role, and even though he knew it wasn’t Castiel’s fault Samandriel still felt a little upset about it. He hadn’t asked for what had happened to him. And it didn’t make him useless, whatever Michael said.

After weeks of saying it, Benny had finally gotten Samandriel to the point where he could believe that. Now he just had to hope that _Benny_ still believed it.

Whoever was responsible for them having all been called into the throne room wasn’t there, presumably because it looked less impressive to have the royal family trickle in than to have them just standing there, looking proud and emotionless. The guards led him in a few minutes after Samandriel and Gabriel took their places.

It took every ounce of Samandriel’s self-control to not cry out or run to him. It _was_ Benny, and his face was bloody and one arm was being held gingerly to his chest and he was squinting out of one eye.

The roar of thoughts and emotions that all began clamoring for Samandriel’s attention threw him off balance for a minute, and it took everything in him to keep his face emotionless. He wasn’t even sure he was being successful, but it didn’t really matter because no one was looking at him. Not even Benny.

Michael was talking now, in that regal king voice he had mastered as a teenager. “Do you deny that you are guilty of what you’ve been accused of?”

It was a pointless question, Samandriel knew, because they wouldn’t have arrested him if he hadn’t been caught in the act, and Michael had already made up his mind because he would sooner chop off his own arm than admit to being wrong, but there was still a large part of him hoping that Benny _would_ deny it and give Samandriel some hope that maybe this was all a big misunderstanding.

But Benny didn't say anything.

“Do you have an explanation for what you did?” Michael asked next, and this time it was a valid question and one Samandriel desperately wanted to know the answer to, not least of all because there was a theory forming in the back of his mind and he _needed_ to be told that it was wrong.

But Benny still didn’t say anything.

Michael sighed. “You do realize you will be interrogated?”

Benny continued to keep quiet, not even looking at Michael.

 _‘Look at_ me _,’_ Samandriel thought, wishing there was a way to make Benny hear him without speaking. Why couldn’t Benny just _look_ at him, acknowledge him somehow? Just to let him know that Samandriel’s suspicion was wrong? Would that really be so hard?

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Michael went on, clearly not caring if anyone else wanted to know what he thought. He was the king, they had to listen. “I think you’re here for the Purgavain prisoners-of-war we have locked up.”

And there it was. The ugly, horrific, unthinkable suspicion that Samandriel had been doing his best to not give words to. Michael had thought it too.

But Benny _still_ didn’t speak.

Michael took that as a cue to continue. “Were those your orders all along? Stage a rescue to gain our trust, behave docile and calm until we let our guards down? They knew a war would start over Samandriel’s capture. You were to stay here until we had a significant number of Purgavains. Then you would help them escape.”

Samandriel wanted to jump to Benny, to grab him by the collar, shake him, and scream, _“Deny it! Argue, deny it, protest, do_ something _! For me, just deny it! Let me know you didn’t do that to me!”_ But he didn’t move, stopped breathing even, and Benny still didn’t speak.

“You will be punished for this,” Michael went on, as though his youngest brother wasn’t having a crisis a few feet away. “What it will be will be decided in good time.” He nodded to the guards. “Take him away.”

The guards grabbed Benny’s arms again and Samandriel saw him wince as they touched the injured one, but he kept right on not making noise and not looking at Samandriel.

They walked out of the throne room and Samandriel’s siblings started leaving to go back to their rooms and whatever they’d been doing before.

Not a single one of them checked to see how Samandriel was doing.

Not a single one of them noticed him standing there, feeling as though he’d be crushed under the weight of his crown, trying not to break down where he could still be seen.

 


	10. Know Where Your Loyalties Lie

Castiel, even with the knowledge that things weren’t going to get easier for a long while yet, was pleased to see the castle coming steadily closer at last. The castle was home, however crazy things got there. The castle had Dean and Balthazar and Samandriel and the rest of his family. It would always be a relief to return to it.

Michael didn’t seem happy to see him. “You’re back much more quickly than I would have expected, Castiel.”

He sounded almost suspicious. Castiel hoped his nervousness didn’t show on his face because if Michael was suspicious already it wouldn’t take much for the questions to start getting more direct. “Queen Charlotte said that she appreciated the motion and the message behind it, but they’re doing quite well. I sat in on a few meetings and the like and then she said that I wasn’t really needed and she was sure I’d be more comfortable back at home.”

Michael seemed to accept that, though he didn’t look any happier. “Well. I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do here soon enough. I’d appreciate it if you’d go talk to Samandriel. He’s been very difficult the last few days and you seem to have the easiest time talking to him.”

What had happened _now_? Castiel hoped Samandriel was just being moody and there hadn’t been yet another disaster, albeit one Michael didn’t _see_ as a disaster. He nodded. “I’ll do that right away.”

“See that you do.” And then Michael was walking away, moving with purpose, as if he had somewhere terribly important to be and had to get there as soon as humanly possible. If he’d been going any faster he would have been running, which was an unusual thing for Michael to be doing.

Castiel shrugged it off, knowing there was no way to find out what was going through his brother’s head short of following him, which Castiel was not nearly brave enough to risk doing right now. He put it out of his mind and went looking for Samandriel.

As he’d expected, the youngest Novak was in his room, looking sullen. Castiel recognized the body language as meaning that Samandriel was waiting for someone to give him a reason to blow up and start screaming, so he’d have to tread carefully.

“I’m back,” he announced, despite feeling that was fairly obvious.

“Earlier than you were supposed to be.”

Castiel shrugged, trying to come off as friendly and nonthreatening as possible. “You probably would have been a lot more use to them than I was. I spent most of my time listening to them talk about strategy and pretending to know what they were saying.”

Samandriel didn’t even try to smile, but Castiel didn’t feel it was quite time to ask what was wrong yet, so he cast around for another conversation topic. Seeing the open door to the side room, he asked, “Where’s Benny?”

The book Samandriel had been distractedly flipping through the pages of fell shut on the desk with a _thunk_. Samandriel’s face grew tight and there were too many emotions on his face for Castiel to properly pick them out before he pushed them back under a pretense of being too strong to feel anything.

“He was arrested.” Samandriel’s voice was flat, he may as well have been talking about some nameless servant going to eat bread.

“He- What? What did he do?” Looking at Samandriel, a terrible thought occurred to him. “He didn’t attack you, did he?”

Samandriel swallowed hard enough for Castiel to see the movement of his throat. “No.”

“Then what happened?”

“He was caught trying to break into the jail cells. Or at least steal the keys. Michael believes he infiltrated us to release prisoners-of-war and I don’t want to talk about it.”

That was far from a clear explanation, but Castiel could imagine the rest of the pieces well enough. It wasn’t a bad plan either, if it was true. Castiel thought it was wise to take anything Michael said or believed with a grain of salt, however, so he wasn’t going to jump to the same conclusion just yet.

He didn’t tell Samandriel that, feeling that his younger brother had made up his mind just as much as Michael had, and this wasn’t the time for a fight.

He clasped Samandriel’s shoulder in a way that hopefully came off as reassuring. “You shouldn’t be angry with yourself, Samandriel. You couldn’t have known he was using you like that. And nobody got hurt or escaped or anything like that, so you don’t really have anything to blame yourself about.”

Samandriel looked anything but reassured. In fact, he looked about three seconds away from beginning to throw things like a child with a temper tantrum. And knives.

Castiel smiled, told Samandriel he’d see him at dinner, and retreated. He wanted to go see Dean anyway.

* * *

 

The door to the smithy was shut, which was unusual for the time of day. Castiel knocked as he eased it open, beginning to worry what he was going to find on the other side. “Dean?” he called out as he stepped through.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded strange, breaking over the name as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Castiel found him, sitting at his table, hair sticking out as if he’d been pulling at it. His face was pale and there were heavy bags under his eyes.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel asked, moving to Dean’s side and putting one hand on his wrist. “What’s happened?”

“Cas.” There was relief in the word now, but Dean didn't look any better. “You _are_ back.”

Castiel nodded at the obvious statement. “I’ll tell you about Humaear later. What’s the matter?”

There was a pause from both of them, and then Castiel realized something Dean had said was a bit odd. “Who told you I was back to begin with?”

Dean hesitated, and Castiel could see him debating whether or not to say. Castiel squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“King Michael.”

He was a bit taken aback. “Michael told you? Why?”

Dean shook his head. “I can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

But Dean only shook his head again.

“ _Dean._ ”

Dean looked up and their eyes met.

“Dean, what is going on? What happened while I was gone?”

Dean bit his lip nervously, and when he spoke his words were so quiet that Cas nearly missed them. “Michael knows.”

Castiel’s mind went into denial as soon as the words registered. Michael couldn’t know. He would have known if Michael knew. “What do you mean? Michael knows what?” His heart was racing and he knew, despite his denial, exactly what Michael knew, but he was still hopeful that Dean might tell him something different.

“Us, Castiel. He knows about us.”

“But he can’t- He would have- _How?”_

Dean shrugged, helplessly. “I don’t know. But he knows. He ordered me not to tell you. I think he thinks you told me something that he doesn’t know about it and he wants me to tell him.”

Castiel took a moment to consider that. “But even if you did know something, why didn’t he arrest you? He’s just letting you walk around?”

“He arrested Sam.”

Which, if you knew Dean at all, explained everything. If Dean had known something, he’d have said it in a heartbeat to help Sam. Castiel almost felt guilty about Dean not knowing anything that would have helped. “He’s in a cell, I’m assuming?”

Dean nodded again. “Benny tried to help - you know, Prince Samandriel’s bodyguard? But they caught him. He refused to say what he was doing so that Sam and I didn’t get in anymore trouble, and now they thing he’s a traitor and I think they’re going to _kill_ him.”

God. He hadn’t even been gone three weeks but everything had apparently fell to disaster as soon as he was gone. He gently took hold of Dean’s chin and tilted his head to kiss him, trying to put all the reassurance into it that was possible. “But he isn’t dead yet?”

“No. They’re both still locked up. I can’t even see them. I haven’t seen Sam in over two weeks, Cas. What if he’s hurt, or-”

“Dean. Just breathe. It’ll be all right. I’ll get them out.”

And all the danger that that promise put him in didn’t matter to him as soon as he saw the hope and relief that flooded across Dean’s face. “You can do that?”

Castiel nodded. “I should be able to. Michael has made it clear recently that he respects my opinion. I shouldn’t have any difficult convincing the guards to release them. But…”

“But we’ll have to leave. The king will know you helped us, Cas, he’ll-”

“I know. Don’t worry about me, Dean. I’ll be alright.” He was going to be considerably less helpful to Humaear than he and Queen Charlotte had hoped, but they would just have to work something out. “I’ll have them released tonight, before Michael has a chance to tell them not to listen to me. Are you ready to leave?”

Dean nodded. “I can be.” He leaned over and kissed Castiel on the mouth, hard and desperate. “Thank you, Cas. I-”

Castiel cut him off with another kiss. “Don’t. Just… Listen for news from once you’ve left. There’s a lot going on with this war. Things could change. You could be able to come back.”

Dean squeezed his hand so hard it hurt, but Castiel didn’t mind. “I hope so.”

* * *

 

Castiel’s heart was pounding, every nerve alive and tingling. He was doing his best not to think about Dean; about how, after tonight, he wouldn’t see him for a long while. He refused to entertain the idea that it might be forever.

He’d waited a while after talking to Dean to give the blacksmith time to prepare to leave, as well as for there to be fewer people in the castle halls. It would all be for nothing if Michael came across them or heard about what Castiel had done before Sam and Benny were out of danger.

The guards didn’t protest when he arrived and ordered them to release Sam Winchester and Benjamin Lafitte and bring them to him. They didn’t even ask questions, which was good, but still made Castiel wonder if maybe they needed to retrain their guards.

“Are you sure you don’t need a guard to escort you with them, your highness?” one of the men asked when they returned with Sam and Benny in tow.

“I’ll be fine,” Castiel assured him, trying to keep his rapid heartbeat out of his voice. “I’m not taking them far. I’m sure they won’t be any trouble.”

They probably _couldn’t_ have been any trouble, to be perfectly honest. It was obvious from looking at them that they’d been locked up for some time. Sam was squinting into the light, and where they were standing really was not all that bright. Castiel didn’t see Sam often enough to say that he’d be able to tell if Sam wasn’t feeling well, but the man was swaying a bit on his feet and had visibly lost weight. Benny had too, though not as much, and there was bruising on his face. He held one arm gingerly. It didn’t seem to be broken, but it was certainly injured.

Once away from the guards and out of earshot, Sam looked at Castiel hopefully. “Did Dean send you?”

Castiel nodded. “He’s waiting out by the stables. He has everything the three of you will need, and some horses. You’re going to need to get away from here.”

Sam nodded, not looking happy to have to leave his home, but clearly understanding. Benny, on the other hand, was visibly distraught.

“No, I need to talk to Samandriel before I can go anywhere.”

 _That_ was an odd request, Castiel thought. Benny would likely be killed if he was caught, and he wanted to personally clear up a miscommunication between him and Samandriel?

“There isn’t time for that,” Castiel told him, nervously glancing around as they neared the stables. The closer they came to not being caught the more Castiel feared they would be. “You have to go.”

“You don’t understand-” Benny began to protest, but Castiel shushed him and ushered the two men into the stable, where Dean was waiting, nervousness painted on his features.

Castiel could pinpoint the exact moment Dean saw his brother. “Sammy. Thank God. Are you okay?”

Sam’s smile was tired, but genuine. “I’m okay, Dean.”

Dean nodded, relieved, and looked at Benny. “I am so sorry I got you into this.”

“I volunteered, didn’t I?” Benny turned back to Castiel. “Listen, I really need to talk to Samandriel before I can leave. It’s important.”

“There isn’t _time_ ,” Castiel repeated. “You three need to leave, now. I want you as far away as possible before Michael realizes you're gone.”

“But-”

“Benny, get on a horse,” Dean said. “We need to leave.”

Despite the order not being directed at him, Sam hoisted himself into one of the saddles.

Dean approached Castiel. “Thank you. Again. And hopefully-” He cut off, but Castiel understood and smiled.

“I know, Dean.” _‘I’ll see him again,’_ he assured himself, trying to make it sound true.

Dean nodded. “But just in case-” And he kissed Castiel, on the lips, with everything he had.

They’d never kissed where someone else could see before, and it had never been filled with so much desperation and worry and love before. It was dizzying.

They broke apart at last, breathing heavily. Dean smiled one more time, no happiness in it, and mounted his horse. “Come on, you two.”

Benny was on a horse now, but as they left the stables he looked back to the castle, a look of longing in his eyes. “But I-”

“Benny, _go_ ,” Castiel commanded. “If it really bothers you that much, I’ll tell Samandriel that you weren’t really a traitor, that you were helping a friend. Just go, before you’re caught.”

Benny didn’t look even remotely reassured by that, but he turned his horse and followed Sam and Dean. Castiel watched them until they vanished from sight.

* * *

 

Samandriel had spent the days since Benny’s arrest walking a thin line between depressed and furious. There was no outlet for him as he could hardly go telling people that he was upset because he’d been sharing a bed with his bodyguard, and fighting was as much out as always. Castiel was back, which he supposed was good, but it only did him so much good while he couldn’t tell Castiel the truth.

Despite the thin line, however, Samandriel had been doing a fairly good job of at least keeping himself stable. He hadn’t gone all the way to screaming at anyone, he hadn’t thrown anything breakable against a wall, and the only thing he’d hit was a few of his pillows. His father would have been proud.

Well, he would have been so long as he didn’t know why Samandriel was upset to begin with.

He’d nearly lost his mind when he heard about Benny’s escape. Oh, he’d kept himself under control while there were people around, but once he was back in his room with the door firmly shut, he took one look at the door that had led to Benny’s room and both warring emotions had come out at once.

Tears streaming down his face, he’d began hurling things towards that door, imagining that they’d somehow hit Benny when they landed. He’d screamed, a guttural noise that hadn’t held any words, and dissolved into angry sobs which he muffled into his pillow in case anyone walked by before he recovered.

That bastard. That complete and utter _bastard._ Samandriel had shoved it down and denied it until he hadn’t realized it was there, but he’d still held some hope that maybe Benny hadn’t been guilty after all, hadn’t been using him like that. His escape sealed it as truth.

If Benny _had_ been framed, or wrongfully arrested, or any of the other theories that had occurred to Samandriel at one point or another, he would have tried to tell Samandriel before he escaped. Samandriel had been willing to allow that Benny hadn’t wanted to say something in front of the entire royal family, for whatever reason, but there was no such excuse anymore.

Samandriel wanted to be sick. He’d been playing back his memories of time spent with Benny, analyzing them second by second, but even with the knowledge of what Benny had done, there was no indication that any of it had been a lie until just a few days before his arrest, when he had suddenly grown quiet and distant.

That was the worst, he thought. That even now, when he looked back, he was still thinking, ‘ _but he loved me. He did. I was important to him.’_ Even though he obviously hadn’t been.

If he ever saw Benny Lafitte again, he’d take his head off, to hell with his inability to hold onto a weapon.

It was too early in the morning for even the sun to be thinking about getting up, but Samandriel needed to work out some of his angry energy. He left the room, walking through the castle at a brisk, purposeful pace, not paying attention to where he was going and hoping to exhaust himself so he could return to his room and go to bed.

“ _Damn it!”_ Samandriel jumped and was snapped out of his thoughts at Michael’s angry shout, which came from his not-fully-closed office door and echoed off the stone walls for several reverberations before fading away.

Curious, Samandriel stepped next to the door opening and listened.

“We could send someone out looking for them, your majesty,” Zachariah was saying. “Dean undoubtedly left with Sam Winchester and Benjamin Lafitte. They can’t have gotten too far.”

Sam? Sam… He’d been the man arrested for destruction of castle property, hadn’t he? He’d escaped too, though Samandriel had been too preoccupied with Benny to spare him much thought.

“They took horses, Commander,” Michael replied, sounding irritated. “And we have no way of knowing which direction they were going. Our chances of finding them are slim to none. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway, Dean Winchester is no longer useful to me.” He huffed out an angry breath of air. “You heard the guards, Castiel is responsible for this. I didn’t think he’d be that bold.”

Responsible for what? The jail break? Castiel wouldn’t do something like that. Why would he?

“But why would he have let Lafitte go as well, your majesty? They aren’t friends. Last I’d heard he was still cautious of allowing the man near Prince Samandriel.”

“I don’t know, do I? I wouldn’t have thought he would, but the last few months have made it clear that I can’t trust anyone as well as I thought I could. I don’t know anyone as well as I thought I did. Apparently, I was wrong in thinking that Castiel would be the most valuable to me, out of all my siblings.”

Michael sighed. “Perhaps Anael will prove to be more helpful. She’s grown up with more boys than girls around her, maybe she’s learned a thing or two, and actually won’t pull a surprise like this. I would like _one_ of my siblings to not prove to be utter failures.”

“What about Prince Castiel, your majesty?”

“I don’t want a public spectacle of him being exiled or arrested, but he needs to be taken care of.” There was a pause, and Samandriel shuffled closer to the door to make sure he didn’t miss what was said next.

“It would be especially beneficial if something were to happen that we could blame on Hellacia or Purgavai. Give people a martyr for the cause.”

There was another long pause, during which Samandriel’s heart began to race.

“Would you like me to arrange something, your majesty?”

“Yes. Sooner, rather than later, Zachariah. Who knows what other complications Castiel has waiting.”

“Yes, sire.”

Samandriel was racing down the halls towards Castiel’s room before Zachariah left Michael’s office.


	11. How Much Blood Is Enough

Castiel, who had not been sleeping particularly well to begin with, was woken rather abruptly when Samandriel came bursting through his door at an ungodly hour of the morning.

Castiel sat up, blearily blinking away his tiredness. “I knew I should have gotten up to lock that last night.”

Samandriel didn’t even seem to hear him. “Castiel, you’re in trouble. I don’t know what’s going on, but Michael says he can’t trust you anymore and you need to be ‘taken care of’ and I think he’s just ordered Zachariah to kill you and make it look like a war crime.”

 It all came out in one quick breath and was an awful lot of strange information for Castiel to take in before the sun had even risen. “He what?”

Samandriel took a deep breath to steady himself. “I just heard Michael telling Zachariah that he can’t trust you and he wants Zachariah to have you killed and make it look as though you were attacked by either Hellacia or Purgavai. And it had something to do with Sam Winchester and Benny escaping. And the blacksmith, I guess.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected a complete lack of repercussions, but Michael wanted him _dead_? That was… If it had been anyone other than Samandriel he’d have thought they’d misheard, but Samandriel wouldn’t have come running with news like that if he hadn’t been certain. And Samandriel was never certain without good reason.

They stared at each other, eyes large and Samandriel’s breathing labored, neither of them saying anything while Castiel processed the news.

“You don’t seem all that surprised,” Samandriel said once he’d gotten his breath back.

Castiel grimaced. “I think I’ve found out too many bad things about our oldest brother to be _surprised_ by any more of it.”

“What do you mean?”

So Castiel, still thinking about Michael’s newest decision in the back of his mind, told Samandriel about how he’d grown suspicious of Michael, how Queen Charlotte had confirmed those suspicions, and how there was a very good chance that Humaear was going to try to overthrow Michael, and it would be a very good thing if the rest of the Edengardian royal family took their side during it.

“What, you want _Gabriel_ to be king?” Samandriel said at the end of it, focusing on what Castiel thought was one of the least important details.

“At least I’ve never thought that Gabriel would be capable of betraying an ally during a war - or ordering one of his younger brothers killed.”

“Fair enough,” Samandriel conceded after a moment's thought. “Did you really get Sam and Benny released?”

Castiel nodded. “Dean and I… We were friends. Are friends.” He shifted uneasily, looking up at Samandriel from where he still sat on the side of his bed. He could see thoughts chasing each other across his brother’s face.

“Were you and Dean…?” he asked slowly.

Castiel saw no reason to hide it from Samandriel any longer and nodded. “For a few years now. I’d tell you not to tell Michael, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

“Michael knows? If he knows why didn’t he have Dean arrested? Or executed, or exiled, or anything else?”

“He thought I may have told him things, same as how he thought Gabriel told Kali about where to attack you. So he arrested Dean's brother, for leverage to make Dean tell him anything he didn’t know. Which would have worked, if I’d actually ever told him anything.”

Samandriel nodded. “Makes sense. But why did you-” He shifted uncomfortably, looking around him and rubbing the back of his neck. “How come you released Benny too? I know he and Dean were friends, but he’s a _traitor_ , he-”

Samandriel’s voice cracked over the word ‘traitor’ and he cut off almost immediately, biting his bottom lip. Castiel tilted his head curiously. “Are you all right, Samandriel?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Why’d you let him out?”

He was speaking quickly and Castiel didn’t believe him for an instant. “You don’t sound all right. Were you really that upset about Benny having lied to you?” An image came suddenly back to him; Benny’s face in the dimming light, looking back at the castle as though leaving it was the worst thing that could ever happen to him.

“Wait… Where _you_ and _Benny_ …?”

Samandriel’s eyes widened and a blush sprung from his cheeks, slowly spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “What? No! Of course not!” His voice squeaked over the words.

“Samandriel, you are a terrible liar.” Castiel was smiling, momentarily lost in the moment of enjoyment at teasing his younger brother, but the look on Samandriel’s face quickly dragged him back to reality. “I’m sorry. That - that must have hurt then. Thinking he betrayed you.”

“He betrayed _us_. All of us. We trusted him, gave him a chance, and he threw it back in our faces.”

“He hurt you. I understand that. But it wasn’t what it looked like, Samandriel. I promise you that.”

“How would you know? You were in Humaear while this was happening!”

“Dean told me.”

“And what would _he_ know? Is he just _that_ good a judge of character?”

“Breathe for a moment, Samandriel. You may work it out for yourself.”

There was a long pause as Samandriel just looked at him, confused, before his face cleared with realization. “He was trying to help Dean, since you were gone?”

The hope in his voice cut Castiel like a knife. He nodded. “He was just trying to help a friend, Samandriel. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Funny how it happened anyway.”

Castiel sighed. “Maybe I should have let him talk to you after all.”

“What?”

Castiel rubbed his forehead. “He said he wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t think there was _time._ ”

“He wanted to talk to me?”

Castiel looked at Samandriel to see a steadily strengthening shine of hope showing on his face. “You really fell for him, didn’t you?”

Samandriel didn’t say anything, but looked down at the floor, which was answer enough for Castiel. “I’m sorry, Samandriel. If I’d known that I would have made sure you knew what was going on. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.” A thought occurred to him that made him smile weakly. “Between you, me, and Gabriel this family could win prizes for getting involved with people we shouldn’t.”

“I would have thought that Balthazar would be more likely to have a problem like this than the two of us.”

“Balthazar doesn’t do feelings. It’s not in his nature. He’d never get attached to someone enough to cause a national crisis.”

Samandriel chuckled weakly, but the humor vanished almost instantly. “What are we going to do about Michael ordering you killed?”

* * *

 

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Gabriel said, standing up from where he’d been sitting around a table with all of his siblings, save for Michael. “You,” he pointed at Castiel, “found out that Michael has been betraying Humaear. _You,_ ” he pointed at Samandriel, “found out that he now wants Castiel’s head on a plate. And the two of you want to ride off to Humaear, get their queen’s support, and stage a _revolt?_ ”

“Well, we would prefer to have as much support from Edengar as possible,” Castiel said matter-of-factly. "Which is why we told you three. We were hoping you could help to rally the troops here while we try for Humaear’s support. Samandriel would actually be staying here, I was hoping one of _you_ would come with me to Humaear. Preferably you, Gabriel, since you are the heir to the throne.”

Gabriel blanched at that, and Samandriel would have thought it was funny if everything wasn’t so deadly serious. “Oh. Right. I am, aren’t I?” His voice was more than a little bit feeble.

“What do you want the rest of us to do?” Balthazar asked, looking between Samandriel and Castiel. Castiel smiled - he’d been certain Balthazar, at least, would be behind them all the way - and, in turn, looked to Samandriel. He straightened a little in his seat. It felt as though it had been years since someone last looked to him for advice.

“Well, if Gabriel goes with Castiel to Humaear…” He looked to Gabriel, questioning.

Gabriel took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll go.”

“Then the three of us,” he made eye contact with Balthazar and Anael, “need to start finding support here in Edengar. We don’t need armies on our side, we just have to make sure we have as few people fighting against us as possible. Balthazar, you are friendly with nearly everyone who works in or around the castle. Anael, I know you have more friends in the village than you want Michael to know about. If I get around the soldiers without Zachariah there I think I can get them to listen to me.”

Anael understood first, and smiled. “You want us to start building our case with the servants and farmers and such.”

Samandriel nodded. “They’re more useful than Michael thinks, we can use that to our advantage.”

“We can handle that,” Balthazar promised.

“Gabriel," Castiel broke in, "you and I are going to have a little bit of a harder time with it. Queen Charlotte liked me, but I’m not sure I can convince her to raise armies for us.”

Gabriel grinned so that all of his teeth were showing. “Isn’t a good thing I’m charming then? I convinced a Purgavain ambassador I was worth talking to, the queen of Humaear can’t be much harder.”

“You haven’t met Queen Charlotte.”

“You never got to know Ambassador Kali.”

Castiel smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You all realize we’re plotting treason, right?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Won’t be treason if we win.”

Samandriel thought that actually may have been the most terrifying part of this. They had every intention of killing their older brother for the good of their country, and then put another brother on the throne. The world had certainly changed a lot over the last year. More than Samandriel would have believed possible. More than he ever would have wanted.

* * *

 

Samandriel was a little afraid that it was too rash and badly planned, but Castiel and Gabriel rode out for Humaear the very next day. It was the only real choice, he knew that, the sooner Castiel was gone the better, but he was still nervous about it. Unguarded too, which insisted on dragging up worries about Castiel and Gabriel ending up like he had.

Balthazar had taken to following him around and reassuring him that they’d be fine - in his own special way, of course.

“Come on, baby brother, what’s the worst thing that could happen to them? Well, I suppose they could get attacked. Or killed. Or assassinated. Or maybe their horses could go lame. But really, Samandriel what are the chances of that?”

“Balthazar? Please stop talking now.”

Balthazar had sobered up since he’d been spending so much more time running around the castle and talking to people and Samandriel had learned that being sober actually made him have even less of a filter. He said the same things, but could actually hold onto a thought long enough to continue on talking about whatever it was that most people would prefer he not mention.

Michael, of course, noticed their absence by dinner.

“Where are Gabriel and Castiel?” he asked, tone implying he already suspected that they weren’t somewhere innocent, like sharing drinks at a tavern.

Balthazar, now the oldest one there, shrugged. “They’re grown men. I didn’t realize we were supposed to be keeping an eye on them.”

Michael glared at him. “Don’t use that tone with me, Balthazar. Where are Gabriel and Castiel?”

He shrugged again. “No idea.”

Michael turned his gaze to Anael and Samandriel. “What are the three of you not telling me? And don’t say nothing because none of you are any good at lying.”

“At least we’re stubborn,” Samandriel said, not looking at Michael as he spoke. “Almost as good.”

“So you admit you know?”

Samandriel took a sip of his drink. “I’m not admitting anything.”

“ _Samandriel_.”

“Michael.” He was probably enjoying himself more than he should, and Anael only confirmed the suspicion when she kicked him under the table.

Michael huffed and stood, pushing away from the table. “When the three of you grow up and come to your senses I expect you to tell me where Gabriel and Castiel have gone.” With that, he left the room.

The three of them exchanged glances.

“Do you think he’ll go after them?” Balthazar asked.

“If he thinks he knows where they went he will,” Anael answered. “So keep your mouth shut, Balthazar.”

“Your lack of faith in me is hurtful. You think I’m just going to tell Michael that the two of them took off for Hum-”

“ _Balthazar!”_ Samandriel interrupted. “You think he doesn’t have people eavesdropping on us when he gets suspicious? Don’t say _anything_!” He didn’t have any proof that Michael had spies, but it seemed the best answer to the question of how he’d known about Castiel’s relationship with Dean. Or maybe he was doing it himself. Either way, Samandriel didn’t trust that they were safe saying anything, anywhere.

* * *

 

Castiel and Gabriel made it halfway to Humaear before Castiel worked up the nerve to properly talk to his brother about what was going to happen if, by some miracle, they didn’t all end up dead.

“Have you even thought this through?” ended up being what came out of his mouth.

Gabriel shrugged as he started a fire. “There’s been some thought. Not as much as Michael would consider necessary, I admit, but I’m not an idiot, Castiel. I know the risks here. And I know that if we _do_ succeed I’m going to be king, which isn’t something I’ve ever wanted very much. But Michael has lost his mind, if he ever had one to begin with. He wants you _dead_ , Castiel. I don’t feel terrifically loyal to him.”

“He’s still our brother,” Castiel said quietly, looking down at the ground so he didn’t have to meet Gabriel’s eyes.

Gabriel chuckled bitterly. “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do about that. The important thing to remember is that family isn’t everything. Not all family members are related to you, and not everyone related to you is family. And when your family starts dragging you down you have to be prepared to do what’s best for you. And, in our case, our entire country. We don’t need a war this big anymore than Humaear does.”

All of which was true, and had, to some extent, already crossed Castiel’s mind in one form or another. He sighed. “I just hope we can stop all this. What if we win against Michael but Hellacia and Purgavai won’t back down? How will we be any better off?”

“We’ll at least have Humaear with us. _Really_ with us, since I wouldn’t lie to them like Michael is.”

Castiel nodded and the two of them sat in silence for the rest of the night, eventually going to bed without speaking. Castiel laid awake, listening to chirping crickets.

He wondered where Dean was; if he, Sam, and Benny were doing all right. Surely Gabriel would let the three of them come back if they won this fight. Castiel hadn’t dared ask yet, though. He didn’t think he’d be able to take the disappointment if the answer was yes but then Gabriel didn’t end up as king. One problem at a time.

It was really Benny he was most worried about, for Samandriel’s sake. As far as anyone but Michael was concerned, Dean hadn’t done anything wrong. Sam’s accusation could easily be put off as a simple miscommunication. Benny had been declared a traitor, which was a considerably harder hurdle to clear.

Castiel would do whatever he could to clear Benny’s name, if it came to that. Samandriel was clearly in love with him, and Castiel knew he’d never be able to sleep at night if he knew his little brother was broken-hearted and he could have helped to fix it. Especially because it was more than partially his fault. He’d been the reason Dean was in trouble in the first place.

But again, they could only handle so many problems at once, and Benny was a problem to be handled later.

Castiel slept fitfully and didn’t feel at all refreshed when Gabriel woke him for breakfast the next morning. Gabriel noticed and informed Castiel that dunking his head in cold water would likely help. However legitimate the idea might have been, Castiel didn’t trust that Gabriel wouldn’t shove the rest of him into the water as well, and stayed away.

It was nerve-wracking, traveling the roads with just him and Gabriel during wartime. They were casually dressed, hoping to pass as meaningless travelers if they came across anyone they’d rather not, but Castiel was nervous all the same. He’d never been so far from home without an escort before. Gabriel, who had been sneaking out of the castle since he was big enough to saddle his horse without help, didn’t share his concerns.

“The thing is,” Gabriel had informed him, “that people don’t get attacked nearly as often as our family likes to say. Sure, _we_ might get attacked, if we go around parading our fancy clothes and crowns and everything else, but nobody gets attacked just for being out on a ride. I’ll be amazed if anyone even gives us a second glance.”

Castiel had remained nervous, but thus far they’d been left alone, just as Gabriel had predicted.

Gabriel was up ahead, his horse deciding a faster pace was necessary, while Castiel plodded along behind, not paying much attention. He was still running through what he was going to say to Queen Charlotte once they reached her.

Gabriel pulled his horse to a stop so quickly that it made an irritated noise in protest and reared up a little. Once he’d calmed the animal, Gabriel turned back to Castiel, who had kicked his horse into a faster pace to see what was wrong.

“What is it?”

Instead of answering, Gabriel just pointed.

Down the hill they were now standing on, previously hidden from sight, was a steadily marching group that Castiel had no doubt was the beginning of an army. The Hellacians, going by the black, eight-pointed star on the flags they were carrying.

“Their main army can’t be too far behind them,” Gabriel said. “They must be scouting out the area.”

“With someone important along,” Castiel agreed. “They wouldn’t have that many soldiers for a regular scouting party, but it's not big enough to be a full army unit.”

Gabriel looked around. “Let’s get some tree cover, see what we can see.”

Which sounded like a predecessor to ‘let’s ride down there and cause trouble’ to Castiel, but he followed Gabriel past the tree line all the same.

The group came steadily closer over the next half hour, until Gabriel suddenly hissed in a shocked breath of air. “Castiel. Do you realize who that woman is?”

Castiel looked out, searching for who Gabriel meant. At the front of the group, he could now see, there were two people riding just a little farther forward. Undoubtedly the important people Castiel had suspected were with the group. One of the two was a woman, and he assumed she was who Gabriel was referring to, but he didn’t recognize her.

“No, I don’t. You do?”

Gabriel nodded grimly. “That’s Hellacia’s queen. Lilith.”

* * *

 

Michael had made a show of leaving dinner in anger, then paused immediately outside the door. His siblings were smart, he’d give them that much, but Balthazar was no expert at keeping secrets and Michael caught enough to guess that Castiel and Gabriel had taken off for Humaear.

He didn’t know what they were planning, but he doubted it was anything he was going to appreciate. Which meant he needed to stop them. Whatever it took.

“Zachariah!” he shouted, storming into the man’s room without any warning. “Get me some men. Gabriel and Castiel are on their way to Humaear, and I intend to go after them.”

Zachariah didn’t move right away, staring at Michael as though he thought he was possessed. “Now, Commander!”

The man jumped and nodded. “Yes, your majesty. I assume you want them ready to go first thing in the morning?”

“No. I want them _now._ Gabriel and Castiel have enough of a head start as it is, I don’t intend to give them anymore of one.” He spun on his heel and made to leave. “I expect my men to be ready to go by the time I reach the stables.”

He didn’t look back, but he heard the door slam as Zachariah raced out to follow the orders.

He was moderately surprised at how many men Zachariah had scrounged up on such short notice, but he only gave the Commander - set on his own horse, waiting to ride out alongside him - a short nod as he mounted his horse and led them away.

Riding at night was not something considered generally advisable, and certainly not at the pace they were going, but Michael had better things to worry about and the soldiers knew better than to voice their protests loudly enough for him to hear.

Even after a few days of not nearly enough rest, most of the men didn’t dare object. Zachariah tried to voice his concerns about it at one point, but one glare from Michael had made him shut his mouth with an audible _click._

Michael had been hoping to catch up with Gabriel and Castiel before they reached Humaear’s capitol. Before they even made it to the border, if he was lucky. What he hadn’t expected, an idea that had never crossed his mind, was that he might run into them as they were coming _back._

But, sure enough, a few days in, Michael looked up to see Castiel and Gabriel coming straight for them, horses kicked into top speed. Both men caught sight of him and his soldiers around the same time he saw them, and pulled their horses to a stop. They exchanged glances, and looked behind them as though something had been chasing them.

Michael pulled ahead of the soldiers to meet them. They looked nervous, but they didn’t run like he’d been expecting them to. “Nice to see the two of you. I was worried,” Michael greeted them.

The two of them looked nervously over their shoulders again. “You can yell at us later, Michael,” Gabriel said. “As big of a problem as we were planning on being, there’s a bigger one coming.”

“Is that right?” Michael asked skeptically. “And what sort of bigger problem would that be?”

“See for yourself,” Castiel said, pointing back the way they came. “They’re not far away, we only just saw them.”

Michael, wary of this being some sort of trick, left a few soldiers to keep an eye on his brothers, and rode out with the rest. Sure enough, he found the threat rather quickly.

A small section of the Hellacian army marching towards him, the rest of them undoubtedly no more than a few hours behind. They were going to march right on Edengar’s capitol, apparently. A bold move, but one that just might work if they didn’t meet any patrols along the way.

But the part that really made Michael stop dead was the two people leading the Hellacians along. He recognized one of them from a meeting with her a long time ago - Queen Lilith of Hellacia.

The other, a man, seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until he turned his head that Michael fully realized who it was.

Riding alongside the Hellacian queen, leading her army to Edengar and its unsuspecting capitol, was Lucifer, the banished prince.


	12. Once We Called You Brother

“Do you think we could win against them?” Zachariah asked. “If we were to take out their leaders the rest of the army might turn back.”

Michael glanced over the soldiers that were with him. “We have the numbers,” he said cautiously. “Provided that the rest of their army doesn’t catch up while we’re fighting. I don’t suppose the two of you know how far behind they are?”

The question was directed to Gabriel and Castiel, who he’d apparently decided still had the potential to be useful, which had surprised Castiel. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“I’m afraid we didn’t think to walk up and ask them to reveal all their secrets. We saw that Lucifer had gotten friendly with Lilith, and we high-tailed it in the other direction.”

Castiel felt oddly composed for someone who had been plotting treason, and Michael seemed less concerned about it than Castiel would have predicted. He supposed that Michael, like Gabriel and himself, had decided that _that_ fight could wait until the Hellacians were taking care of. Castiel wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking Michael wasn’t planning his next course of action, though.

“If at all possible, I would like to take them out here,” Michael said. “I don’t want them to get any closer to the capitol than they already are. Zachariah, send two soldiers back to the castle as a warning, tell them to send more soldier this way. Just in case.”

“We are going to fight here then?” Zachariah asked, even as he turned to deliver the orders.

“I intend to, yes. My brother isn’t going to be getting any further along with whatever he’s planning. It stops now.”

Which, if they won, was a wonderful plan. Zachariah was probably right about the army backing down if Lilith was killed, at least for a while. Long enough for them to prepare properly. They’d been counting on warning from Humaear if Hellacia was coming, but Castiel supposed that Lucifer knew their border security well enough to be able to bypass it completely. He wouldn’t have needed to come in through Humaear.

If they lost, however, the entirety of Edengar would be in severe danger. Castiel supposed it was the principal of the thing, in Michael’s mind. He couldn’t allow Lucifer any kind of victory, no matter what it cost.

It made Castiel a little sick to his stomach to think about. Removing Michael from the throne would probably involve killing him, but Castiel had been doing his best to pretend that wouldn’t be the case. The look on Michael’s face, though, was making it clearer and clearer - to Castiel, at least - that either Michael or Lucifer was not going to walk away alive. One or both of them would probably be dead by the time the sun rose the next day.

Gabriel and Michael began to argue about what they were going to do next, Zachariah trying to agree with Michael on everything, even when he was trying to change his mind to agree with what Gabriel was saying. Kiss-ass. Castiel rested his chin in his hands and wondered if he was going to get to go home. If he’d ever see Dean, Balthazar, or Samandriel again.

If Michael survived, the answer would probably be no. If Lucifer survived, the answer would probably still be no. Wishing for two of his brothers to be dead was more than Castiel thought he could handle. There was no way to win today, not for him.

He looked over to where the argument was raging on, getting progressively louder. Some of the soldiers were shuffling awkwardly behind them, trying to pretend they couldn’t hear their king, prince, and commander yelling at each other.

He stepped in between Gabriel and Michael, cutting off the older of the two mid-sentence in surprise.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Michael asked, and Castiel half expected to be slapped for daring to come over.

“This isn’t a good time for an argument, Michael, and you know it. The Hellacians aren’t far. And if you think that once they get here they’re just going to sit around and wait for you and Gabriel to get your shit together-”

“He’s right,” Gabriel interrupted, and Castiel let him. “Drop this ‘disagree with everything on general principal’ crap you’ve got going on right now and start thinking about how to actually protect your country. Or is that not something you care about?”

Michael huffed angrily, but didn’t disagree. “Zachariah, get the men ready. We’ll meet the Hellacians as they’re approaching.”

Castiel’s heart started beating quickly enough to hurt his chest. The war was coming right to them, and they were marching out to meet it.

* * *

 

There wasn’t time for what Castiel would have considered to be real preparation before Lilith and Lucifer appeared in the distance, but the soldiers were ready and there wasn’t much more that could have been done, caught as unprepared for this as they were. The chance of victory was small, but they’d been ordered to make Lilith and Lucifer their priorities, so there was still a chance. Armies without leaders tended to not last long.

“He’s seen us,” Gabriel said softly, and Castiel looked away from their own soldiers to see.

Lucifer seemed to have ordered the soldiers to stay behind, as only he and Lilith were still moving now. They galloped towards the Edengardians, but stopped before reaching them. And there they waited.

“He wants us to meet him halfway,” Castiel said, realizing. When no one spoke he looked between Gabriel and Michael, who were just staring at Lucifer. “Are we going to?”

“It could be suicide,” Gabriel pointed out.

“We’re in no more danger than him when it’s three against two in our favor,” Michael said, nudging his horse and beginning to move. He looked at Castiel as he passed. “Or at least two against two with one spectator.”

Castiel winced. He didn’t like fighting, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t if it came down to it. There was a sword sheathed at his side for a reason, whatever Michael thought. Gabriel smiled at him in a way that wasn’t at all reassuring but said he trusted Castiel to help if he was needed and the two of them followed after Michael.

The five of them didn’t speak for several minutes after stopping, just a few feet in between them.

Finally, Lucifer nodded a greeting. “Hello, brothers.”

“I see you’ve made friends with your enemies, Lucifer,” Michael said in reply. “Father would have been so proud.”

Lucifer grinned and it sent chills down Castiel’s spine. “I’ve had reason to change my views on things since I was banished.”

Castiel didn’t believe that for a second. If anything, Lucifer was probably using Hellacia as surely as Michael was using Humaear. Making them fight his war and hoping they’d die in the process.

Lucifer nodded to Gabriel and Castiel as well. “I suppose I should have expected you, Gabriel, what with you being the new heir to the throne and all. I must say though, I wasn’t expecting to find you on a battlefield, Castiel. Did things really get so desperate after what happened to Samandriel?”

“You heard about that then?” Gabriel said, not hinting towards the answer to Lucifer’s question. No need to let him know how tense things were growing between the Novaks still in Edengar. “You should have sent him a get well present.”

Lucifer just smiled and Castiel’s stomach dropped. ‘ _I think it’s safe to say the order came from very up Hellacia’s social ladder. Possibly even from Queen Lilith herself.’_ Or maybe Lilith’s new friend and advisor.

“It was _you,”_ he said in a hushed tone, horrified at the thought even as he said it. “You came up with the idea of having border skirmishes until one of us arrived and it started a war.”

Lucifer merely shrugged, no remorse showing on his face. “I thought it could be helpful on multiple counts. Would have been better if Samandriel had been able to tell us anything I hadn’t already known, but there was only so much control I had in it.”

“You _bastard_ ,” Gabriel said, but even through his anger Castiel could see a faint tinge of relief. It hadn’t been his fault, or Kali’s. That was something, to Gabriel at least.

“No need for name calling, Gabriel. How about you, Michael? How do you feel about my part in our brother’s kidnapping? I think it might have been good for him, personally. Give him some real world experience. He’s always been a bit naive, if you ask me.”

“I don’t think anybody did ask you,” Michael said. He sounded much too calm, in Castiel’s opinion.

“Well. That’s the perk of being royalty, isn’t it? You can voice your opinion without asking first.”

“You aren’t royalty anymore, Lucifer.”

“Am I not? My father was a king, my brother _is_ a king, my other brothers are princes, and my sister is a princess. Doesn’t that make me royalty?”

“That’s not how it works and you know that as well as I do. You’re not welcome in Edengar, Lucifer. Take your new pets and go back where you came from.”

Lucifer _tsked_ at him, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’ll be getting rid of me that easily this time, brother. I came for a fight. I’m not leaving without it.”

“What about you, your majesty?” Lilith said, speaking for the first time. “Are you willing to get your hands dirty and do a little fighting?”

In answer, Michael unsheathed his sword and swung it at her. He was too far away to inflict any real damage, but a thin line of red appeared across one of her arms as she turned her horse away from the attack.

Lucifer and Lilith both drew their swords, and Gabriel and Castiel followed suit. Castiel looked back and signaled for their soldiers to move to help them. In the few seconds his back was turned Lucifer moved towards him, pulling back the sword and lashing it forward. Upon turning around, Castiel barely had time to pull away before it cut across his face.

Unscathed, but heart pounding, Castiel gripped the sword handle tighter, trying to decide where he’d do the most good. Their soldiers were almost to them, but the Hellacians had started moving to, and in a moment the area was going to be nothing but blood, death, and the clang of metal on metal.

* * *

 

The roar was deafening. The shouts of men mixed with the screams of horses, and the ringing of swords layered into it until Castiel couldn’t have identified a specific sound if his life depended on it. His arm ached already, but adrenaline was thrumming through him, making him feel as if he couldn’t stay contained in his own skin.

Something warm soaked through his clothes and onto his leg, and when he looked down he discovered the fabric was slowly staining a dark red. If it was his own blood he couldn’t feel the injury, but he’d heard stories about soldiers not realizing they were injured until the battle ended.

He pulled his horse to one side, ducking away as a sword whizzed past his ear. Cempa was difficult to control, having never been in the midst of a battle like this before, but at least she hadn’t bolted or thrown him yet. If he was dismounted he didn’t imagine he’d last long. He’d be trampled underfoot in no time.

There was a sharp pain in his right knee, and this time, when he looked down, he knew the blood was his. There was a knife lodged into his leg, its owner nowhere to be seen, and blood dripping steadily down his leg. Without thinking, Castiel reached down and across with his left hand, wrapped his fingers around the handle, and pulled the blade loose, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Not that it would have mattered if he had, with all the noise going on around him nobody would have noticed.

A man who’d lost his horse - assuming he’d had one to begin with - appeared, running straight for him, sword held high and ready to swing.

Instinctively, Castiel pulled Cempa to the side and lashed out with the knife, catching the man in the neck as he went by. The knife stayed in his hand, but blood poured from the man’s new wound regardless, and he stumbled to the ground. Castiel didn’t spare him a second glace once he saw that he’d fallen, looking around him with the knife in one hand and his sword in the other.

How did anyone ever know what they were doing in a fight? Castiel could barely tell the Edengardians from the Hellacians, let alone pick out an individual target. He’d long since lost sight of his brothers and Lilith, and could only hope that Gabriel, at least, was still alive. Zachariah had disappeared too, and Castiel thought it likely that something had happened to him, because he’d been hearing him shout orders - orders Castiel couldn’t quite make out, but they were definitely from Zachariah - up until a few minutes ago.

A riderless horse came galloping by, rearing up and charging right at Castiel. Cempa shied away, and the resulting lurch unseated him. He tried to compensate, but between his full hands and his injured leg it was a lost cause.

He hit the ground with a pained grunt as he jerked his knee in a way that was not at all appreciated by the still bleeding knife wound. He forced himself to stand on it regardless, knowing this wasn’t a time to be favoring an injury. He looked around for Cempa, but the horse was already gone. He hoped she wouldn’t go far and he’d be able to find her after the battle was over.

Assuming he survived that long, of course.

A scream just beyond his ear that was louder than the rest alerted him to the soldier coming straight at him. He ducked, ignoring the scream of protest from his leg, and swung up with his own sword. A thin line of blood appeared across one of the man’s cheeks, but he didn’t seem to even notice. He stabbed towards Castiel again, catching him across the arm.

The injury wasn’t painful and didn’t draw much blood, but the fact that the man had made contact was more than enough to make Castiel’s heart speed up even further. If it went any quicker he was sure it would just give out on him.

How was this something Samandriel ever enjoyed? Something Lucifer and Michael wanted?

The man pulled his arm back to prepare for his next attack, and Castiel took advantage of his temporary inability to defend himself, darting and sliding the blade of his sword between the man’s ribs. He hadn’t taken his injury into account though, and as he moved to jump away again his leg crumpled beneath him. The man’s final sword sweep went right over Castiel’s head and they both fell to the ground.

Castiel gasped for breath, looking around desperately, hoping for a way to escape the fighting before things grew heavier. The roar seemed to have quieted some, now that he listened for it, but he couldn’t be sure if it was his imagination, the result of the steadily increasing number of corpses, or if the Hellacians were truly backing down.

At least, he hoped it would be the Hellacians backing down. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if the Edengardians retreated first. Or what would have caused them to do so.

The hands at his throat appeared before he had time to register the sight of a weaponless man coming at him. His sword was somehow gone from his right hand, but he gripped the knife in his left so tightly it hurt. He brought it up with all the strength he could manage, even as his lungs screamed for air.

Even with the disconnect he was currently feeling between his brain and every other sensation, he knew the exact moment the knife struck home by the instant tightening and subsequent release of the hands on his neck. The man made a strangled choking sound and slumped forward, body almost completely covering Castiel’s own.

Try as he might, Castiel couldn’t get the man off him. He seemed to serve as a sort of camouflage, however, as no one else came at him. He was afraid of being stepped on by a horse, however, and could only hope that a pile of three bodies would be enough to cause one to either jump over or go around.

He struggled to keep his breathing steady and remain conscious through the blood loss, the pain, the weight on his chest, and the slowly rising panic. The smell of blood and death surrounding him made him want to vomit, and he began to focus all his energy into not losing the contents of his stomach. He couldn’t roll onto his side, he’d choke.

The fighting continued on, loud and terrifying in all directions, but Castiel slowly tuned it out as it became harder and harder for him to not lose consciousness, until finally the sounds, sights, and smells of the battle faded away and everything became a mantra of _‘just stay awake a little longer. Just a little longer. Just a little longer.’_

And then the body on top of him was being pulled away, he was sucking in breath of slightly fresher air, and Gabriel was pulling him into a sitting position. “Are you alright? Castiel, can you hear me? Castiel!”

“I’m alright, Gabriel,” he said, struggling for breath. “My right leg’s hurt, but I’m alright.”

Gabriel immediately turned his attention to Castiel’s injured leg, using a knife - the one Castiel had been using? - and cut away at the fabric to see the injury.

Gabriel’s inquisitive fingers pressed down on the wound, making Castiel hiss in pain. “Sorry. It doesn’t look that bad though, I think you’ll be alright.”

Gabriel looked around, pushing his hair out of his face with a blood-stained hand. Castiel looked around too, to see that the fighting had ended and the Edengardian soldiers - those still standing - were tending to the injured and rounding up prisoners.

“We won?” he asked faintly.

Gabriel nodded. “We won.” He gave a breathy chuckle. “We _won_.”

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Couple of scratches, a few bruises, nothing bad. I got lucky.”

“I’m assuming Lilith’s dead?”

“You assume right. Lucifer and Michael too. I think they killed each other. And Zachariah.”

Castiel swallowed past a painful lump in his throat. “God.”

Gabriel tried to smile. “Hey, maybe that’ll be the end of it, huh? I sent a few soldiers and some Hellacian prisoners to turn the army back. With any luck they’ll stay behind their border now. I’m willing to talk peace if they are.”

Right, Gabriel was king now, wasn’t he? King Gabriel Novak. It was a strange thought, but Castiel wasn’t adverse to the idea. Maybe he’d turn out to have a talent for it.

* * *

 

Castiel had never thought about the aftermath of a battle, how many bodies there were that had to be taken home and all the injured that somehow had to be brought home in a way that didn’t cause them anymore pain. Castiel had helped as much as he could, but was shooed away rather quickly, ordered to sit down and take care of his leg before he injured himself further.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was moving from person to person so quickly that Castiel thought he might lose consciousness purely because he'd forgotten to stop and breathe for a second.

They were bringing Michael’s body back with them for a proper funeral ceremony, of course, and the two of them silently agreed to bring Lucifer back as well. Castiel found he wasn’t as upset over their deaths as he would have expected to be, just sort of numb inside. It all felt very inevitable. Now he could only hope that things would finally begin to take a turn for the better.

They were only a few days from the castle, but it felt as though it might as well have been a few months. The days dragged on and on and Castiel was caught in an odd sort of limbo between feeling worried about what had happened and what still might, and simply not feeling anything at all. Gabriel talked to him when he could, but all of Castiel’s answers felt forced, even to him, and the now-king was so busy that every time he stopped rushing about for a minute he seemed to fall asleep.

The castle finally appeared in front of them, however, and even through his odd haze Castiel was relieved at the sight. If things were going to improve, they would improve from inside those stone walls.

“We made it home, little brother,” Gabriel said, smiling at him.

Castiel tried to smile back, but the expression felt odd on his face. “I suppose we did.”

Samandriel, Balthazar, and Anael were all waiting for them when they arrived, looking equal parts concerned, relieved, and sad. At the sight of them, Castiel couldn’t help but slide his gaze back to where Michael and Lucifer’s bodies were, waiting for their funeral. That would be tonight, he supposed, since it was still early in the day and the sooner it was done with the better.

He promised his siblings that he was all right when prompted, although he wasn’t sure of the honesty in that, and allowed Pamela to examine his injury, and sat through her ensuing scolding without protest.

On the way to the funeral, which took place just as the sun was beginning to slip away behind the castle walls, Castiel passed by the door to the smithy. He looked at it wistfully and hoped that news of Michael’s death would reach Dean soon and he’d return. He’d talk to Gabriel about Benny and the Winchesters the next day.

Lucifer and Michael were burned on funeral pyres, as per tradition, and Castiel didn’t think he would cry, right up until he felt warm tears sliding down his cheeks. He didn’t look at his siblings to see if they were doing the same. He decided that if they were they deserved to do so in private. They were all wearing their crowns anyway, and Castiel knew from past experiences that the crowns would often throw shadows over the top half of their faces, so he likely wouldn’t have been able to tell regardless.

Castiel decided the next morning that it would be best to wait to talk to Gabriel until after his coronation, so he didn’t see his siblings again until they all filed into the throne room the next day, facing towards the thrones instead of away from them for once.

Gabriel took his vows, agreed to the promises, and knelt to have the crown set on his head. When he stood again, it struck Castiel that he suddenly looked a great deal like their father.

Despite himself, even with so much still unknown and left to be seen, he smiled.


	13. Epilogue

Samandriel’s initial excitement over Benny returning - Castiel had talked to Gabriel, who had cleared him and both of the Winchesters - was beginning to shift to trepidation and anger. For all that Benny had had good intentions, the fact remained that Samandriel had trusted him and had been stabbed in the back. He understood why Benny hadn’t told him what was going on, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be mad about it. It had hurt, and Benny wasn't going to get off just like that.

But now he was beginning to worry that Benny wasn’t going to come back at all. Which was a stupid thing to think, he kept telling himself, because the Winchesters hadn’t returned yet either and Castiel didn’t seem to have any doubts at all about _Dean_ returning, but the thought insisted on resurfacing again and again all the same.

After all, it wasn’t as though he had much to offer the man, he thought as he began pacing around his room. Especially now. Things with Purgavai and Hellacia were still tense, but Gabriel wanted to talk peace and, God help him, he was going to talk peace, which meant there was a good chance that Benny would be allowed to go home soon, if he wanted. The idea of him leaving twisted Samandriel’s stomach. If he was just going to go back to Purgavai once he could, Samandriel would rather he not return to Edengar at all.

Or so he kept telling himself.

There was a knock at the door, and Samandriel stopped pacing and turned to face it so suddenly that he almost fell over. He recovered himself and pulled it open.

To find none other than Benjamin Lafitte standing on the other side, slouched down with his hands awkwardly fidgeting at his sides, looking ashamed.

“Benny.” Samandriel was too surprised to manage anything else. He couldn’t even decide which of the many emotions running through him was the most important right now.

Benny gave him a nervous smile. “Hi, little bird.” Samandriel’s heart skipped a beat at the nickname, despite his attempt to keep himself under control. Benny looked around. “Can I - Can I come in?”

It was only then that Samandriel realized he was blocking the doorway. He stepped aside without saying anything and shut the door behind them once Benny was inside.

“Samandriel, I-” Benny began, at the exact second Samandriel said, “Listen, Benny-”

They each stopped, looked at each other, and smiled, more genuinely this time. “You go first,” Samandriel said generously, still trying to decide what he wanted to say.

Benny nodded, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and started again. “Samandriel, I am so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I was just-”

“Trying to help your friend, I know. I understand why you did it, I do. I just-” He shrugged helplessly, not sure how to put the myriad of feelings he was experiencing into words.

Benny nodded though, and Samandriel remembered how easily Benny seemed to be able to tell what he was thinking.

“I know."                                       

And Benny _did_ know, Samandriel was certain of it, and the knowledge made his anger win out over everything else.

"You know? You know how you let me think you lied to me? How I thought you didn't-" Samandriel's words caught in his throat, but he forced his way past them. "How I thought you didn't care? How I spent days sitting here thinking you were using me? You know about that? You _bastard_." He wasn't entirely certain he really was angry, or if he just wanted to cry and have Benny tell him everything was okay and promise to never leave again. Either way, the outburst had felt good.

Benny, to his credit, looked appropriately upset. "I know, and I am so sorry. And I’ll find a way to make it up to you, if you’ll let me. The king said I could return to my job as your bodyguard, if you wanted.”

Thinking of Gabriel as the king was still strange. As was the fact that Gabriel apparently still wanted him to have a bodyguard. Gabriel hadn't seemed to hold onto the same idea as Michael, that Samandriel was helpless. His brother had actually decided that Samandriel would make an excellent military advisor and could help train the soldiers as well, even if he couldn’t grasp a sword any longer. He still knew everything he needed to, in theory at least. Unless Gabriel knew about Samandriel and Benny... Samandriel smiled to himself. Gabriel was probably more perceptive than he let on.

Samandriel struggled to glare, but he couldn't manage to put any heat behind it. “I'm not saying you're forgiven. But…I think I could be all right with that, if you want to stay,” Samandriel said, looking up at Benny expectantly.

Benny smiled and leaned down to kiss him. “I’d love to stay.”

* * *

 

Across the castle, Dean Winchester told his brother goodnight and stepped into his smithy with a content and relieved sigh. He’d set his things down and see if he could find Castiel without drawing too much attention to himself. It was good to be back, he thought, and even better to know that Michael wouldn’t be breathing down his neck anymore. He imagined King Gabriel would be much easier to deal with.

He already seemed better. Dean hadn't ever talked to Gabriel much, before, but he'd always struck Dean as not being the sort you would want in charge of anything. Now, however, he seemed to be taking to his role wonderfully. He'd even come to personally greet Dean, Sam, and Benny when they'd returned, and to apologize personally.

Afterwards, Benny had taken off to see Samandriel like he thought the prince was in some sort of mortal peril. Gabriel had smiled like he knew something, and Sam and Dean just exchanged shrugs. A suspicion had begun to form in Dean's mind, however. If he was right, good for Benny. He couldn't begin to imagine what Benny saw in Samandriel, but most people couldn't figure out what Dean saw in Castiel, so maybe that was just the way love worked.

Dean began making his way out, but the door to the smithy banged open before he was halfway down the stairs leading away from his bedroom, and then his arms were filled with a prince who seemed to be simultaneously trying to say his name and kiss him until they both passed out, and Dean was kissing back without thinking and trying not to fall over, and they were both clenching their hands into the other one’s shirt and saying each other’s names again and again, like they were the last things left in the entire world.

Dean held onto Castiel so hard that it hurt his hands, but it meant that Cas was there, that he was back, that he was _home_ , and that meant that nothing else mattered.

* * *

 

And, across the castle again, King Gabriel Novak stood out on his balcony, looking at the same view he’d seen his father looking out on countless times, and breathed a sigh of contentment. Things weren’t all worked out with Hellacia and Purgavai yet, but it was getting there. Stability was gradually returning to Edengar.

Hellacia was still scrambling to find a new ruler after Lilith’s death. Right now, rumor had it that Crowley was the favorite for the position. Gabriel didn’t like the man, by any means, especially after what had happened with Samandriel, but he thought the former ambassador would probably be intelligent enough to not launch the country into another war. As long as he stayed behind his own borders, Gabriel would be willing to leave him be.

Purgavai was sulking and licking their wounds, but they’d sent Kali back to Edengar and seemed willing to go back to how things had been before. Without Hellacia egging them on, Kali promised that King Richard would behave himself. He wasn't an idiot, at least. He knew how to pick his battles.

Humaear, because Queen Charlotte was apparently a goddess in disguise, had no intentions of holding the lies Michael had told them against Edengar, so, all-in-all, it seemed likely that they’d weathered the storm.

And thank God it was over. The most difficult stretch of it, anyway. Gabriel was ready to fall into bed and sleep for a week. Impossible for a king, but at least now he could possibly sleep for a few hours.

An arm slid around his waist and warm breath hit his ear. “It’s late, Gabriel. Come back to bed.” Kali didn’t wait for a response before she began pulling him backwards.

Sleep was overrated anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Fanart from nikaalexandra on tumblr. If anyone can tell me how to turn that into a clickable link to her blog I would greatly appreciate it, because I can't figure it out.


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